Ever Constant
by Ladyamesindy
Summary: AU - Boy meets girl. Boy loses girl due to ambitious father and spends Blight looking for her. Girl becomes Grey Warden & saves Ferelden from Blight. Adventure, Drama & more than a bit of Romance. Nathaniel Howe/Bryallyn Cousland.
1. Prologue

_This story is one that came to me while listening to the song "Bye Bye Beautiful" by Nightwish. One line from the song sparked an idea (much later in the story), which started me wondering, "hmmmm" and eventually led to this idea. I hope you enjoy my little flight into fancy here. I will warn you, this will be EPIC in length, and as I currently have two relatively new stories in the works at the same time, it may only be posted once and/or twice a week at least in the near future._

_As I am sure you noticed in the description, this is a Nathaniel Howe/Fem. Cousland story. It begins several years before the Blight and is planned to go at least through Awakenings, but that may be adjusted as we go along. As any story with these parameters would suggest, it will be AU, but as I put no restrictions on my imagination, I will write and publish it through to the end._

_I would like to state up front that I am the most fortunate of authors for having four fabulously wonderful betas for this project - all are authors in their own right, and I highly recommend their works! Thanks, hugs and snugs to : __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__ for their help and assistance, and for putting up with me asking them constantly, "Have you looked at the next chapter yet?" _

_Bioware owns all but what I made up!_

_I also want to thank my husband who encourages me to write and is constantly offering me ideas to publish (of course, he doesn't always warn me before giving them to me, so I don't always get them written down to remember ...), and patiently works me through military-like questions. As a tribute to him, I am beginning publication of this story on our 12th wedding anniversary. Thank you, honey, for all that you have brought to my life. I love you more and more with each passing day, and I will always be thankful for you asking me last November, "Do you think you would like this (DA: Origins) for Christmas?" _

_Please feel free to leave reviews, ask any questions, leave comments or even message me outside of the story if you so desire. I appreciate it all! And while I do not always respond directly to my reviewers, I will shout you out in my chapter updates! MUAHs ahead of time - I am so flattered that you enjoy my ideas! =)_

_And now, in the words of the drive-in theatre behind our house, "On with the show!"_

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_**Ever Constant**_

On the day of his birth, a raging storm roared in from the sea. This in itself was not unusual, but this particular storm was the worst that had been seen in the region for centuries. The birth was a difficult one for the mother as well, who passed him off immediately to the nanny, Adria. Throughout his childhood, his mother would often compare the color of his eyes with the clouds of that storm, usually right before walking away from him and out of the room.

On the day of her birth, there was a storm that buried the region with a thick blanket of snow unlike anything that had been seen in anyone's lifetime. Though the wind howled and the temperatures dropped to depths never seen before, warmth and joy and celebration rang out from within the castle. Her father was present at her birth, taking the tiny blanket-wrapped bundle that was his daughter and snuggling her close while the women saw to his wife. The nanny, appropriately named Nan, brought in her older brother who seemed almost afraid of her at first, until her eyes opened and locked onto his gaze. And her mother held her family close, savoring the joy that family could bring, knowing all too well how fleeting it could be.

As he grew, he worked his hardest to please both of his parents, but discovered in the end that his mother was never pleased with him at all. With his father he was able to find some sort of tacit approval and acknowledgement. His younger brother seemed to find the proper balance though, leaving only his sister with whom he could find acceptance, tolerance and comfort. In the end, even this was taken from him when at age twelve, he was sent to South Reach, to Arl Leonas Bryland, to squire. At first, he was angry, defiant, and he saw something in his father's eyes ... _pride_ ... at his reaction. But after a short time under the Arl's tutelage, he grew to like his new home, the soldiers with whom he served, and even the Arl himself. On the rare occasion that he would go home, or see his family, he felt the distance between him and his mother continuing to grow, although his father seemed pleased enough with his progress.

As she grew, she would follow her brother everywhere, trailing after him as if she was the mabari he had always said he would have preferred over her*****. As she aged, she came to understand his annoyance with her, particularly when he was with his friends. However, the day she was seven and he was twelve, the day that they were in the town to celebrate Satinalia and she saw what others did not ... and saved her older brother's life was the day that he begged his father to allow her to train with her father's men. The family and the entire town discovered that day, as she chased after the men trying to kidnap her one true hero, that she had a connection to the beasts and the birds that could not be denied. As she ran, she called for help and was rewarded with replies from two dogs, a cat and an falcon, all of whom attacked the abductors so that she could get her sibling to safety. The adversaries were apprehended shortly thereafter, and justice was served.

He was an adult now, but unmarried and as such his father required his presence with the family at the palace in Denerim. King Maric had gone missing, sailing off to sea and disappearing forever, presumed dead. He was in Denerim, in the service of Arl Bryland, but his lord had allowed him the opportunity to stay with his family. Had encouraged it, actually, much to his displeasure. For, as he had grown, his relationship with his mother had become continuously strained, and even now at times he wondered if his father really approved of him or not. He found himself wondering sometimes just how he could be related to them. And now the woman who was his mother by birth, if not by choice, was preaching at him yet again about some minor transgression, something of which he was not personally aware not having lived with them for so long, and only by sheer chance had his father entered the fray and taken on the anger and wrath meant for him. Knowing it was cowardly, and not really caring other than to divorce himself from the situation, he left the apartments and began looking for refuge ...

She was an adult now, but unmarried. She had grown up training with her father's men, his lone ranger amongst a sea of warriors, but she was still his Pup. She didn't mind, even when her older brother, now a father in his own right, would occasionally call her that. She had been saddened at the loss of the king, having met him upon occasion and felt a kinship with the man that had to do more with personality than blood. For days following the news, she had roamed the cliffs of her home, staring out at the Waking Sea in the hopes that he might suddenly reappear. But she knew that he wouldn't. So when it came time to head for Denerim, for the memorial to wish the old king goodbye and the coronation and wedding of the new king, Maric's son Cailan, she had made the long trip with her family. But she was not one for salons, or tea parties or meetings or casual gossip. She was at home with the animals, with nature. At peace when surrounded by the wilds. Her mother often teased her for her preference in such things, but given her expertise, she did not complain too loud, too often, nor too seriously.

The timing was set, the heavens aligned and fortunes were all in place. The meeting was one that would change the future of Ferelden, all of Thedas for that matter. Two would meet, become one and then torn asunder ... but throughout it all would remain one ever constant thread holding it all together ...

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**A/N:** This idea comes from Erynnar and her story _The Whispering Sighs of the Blade_. She a wonderful friend, beta, my twin in many things and ever the inspiration for me!


	2. In The Garden

_Oh, my! The response to the prologue was simply overwhelming ... I hope I can do this story justice! Thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those setting alerts and favs including: Zevgirl, Harmakhis, I am Cousland, AveyTare, Hwdas, Nithu, roxfox1962, Shakespira, WitchWeaver, jenncgf, rhiannaskye, Piceron, VioletTheirin, MireliAmbar, Erynnar, DarkSeducer, Jeanny, BubblesScream-jahm4, Sukauto Doragon, AlineLopes, Lady Dayla, MelRedux and jack o'lantern121._

_Thank you to my wonderfully fabulous betas who keep me on track: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__. I would not be able to do this without their help, support and encouragement! Thanks to Erynnar for her help with the description of the actions of the bird below._

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ..._

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Nathaniel knew he should count himself lucky as he walked along the hall leading towards the palace gardens. All things considered, he had escaped the latest confrontation with his mother virtually unscathed thanks to his father, Arl Rendon Howe. He knew that he was fortunate because that woman could really rant and rave when she got herself worked up which, as he knew from a lifetime of experience, was almost constant. Nathaniel found himself wondering more and more often of late how it was possible that he could be the Arlessa's son. They were so different in personalities, in temperament. Sighing, Nathaniel turned down the last hall leading to his destination. He needed to stop reflecting on why it had happened and simply enjoy the time alone because he knew it would be all too short.

He entered into the royal gardens by exiting through the doors at the back of the palace and then turning left. The area was massive, extending from the palace southwards, almost reaching the city walls in the south. In addition to that, they ran east to west, encompassing many acres of land, walled off of course, and containing a variety of types of flowers, trees and animals. All in all, Nathaniel found it to be a very restful and relaxing place, relatively unused as well, so that when he would come here he could often find the peace and quiet he sought out.

Today as he entered, he took a deep breath, enjoying the sights, sounds and smells of his surroundings. _This_ was what he had needed, he realized. Though raised in a large and busy keep, Nathaniel actually found himself very uncomfortable when in the city, particularly the large capital city of Denerim. He felt closed in, crowded, almost suffocated each time they visited. About ten years before, he had discovered the royal gardens by accident, a place that made the rest of the city melt away and he could feel almost as if he was at home again ...

And then he heard ... something. Nathaniel paused on his walk into the main part of the garden, thinking about the sound. It had sounded natural, and yet ...? His instincts kicking in, he shifted to the shadows and began searching the area nearby. If he was not alone, that would be fine. He could understand the draw of the peace that the gardens offered all too well. But there had been ... _something_ about the noise that had not been ... right ...

A few moments later Nathaniel was beginning to convince himself that he had heard nothing, that his mind had simply been playing tricks on him, when the soft voice drifted along on the wind once more. "... nothing to worry about now. Things will be right as rain soon enough ..."

Turning, he began walking down a stone path leading towards a grouping of trees. When he came to another crossroads, he stopped again, listening ... and then he was hit by the concentrated scent of honeysuckle and lavender ... just before a blur of tan and burgundy tumbled out of the branches above and landed in a graceful crouch at his feet. Slightly startled, he felt himself react automatically; his lithe frame drawing into a slight bend at the waist, his stance shifting back a step to give him room to step into his opponent if necessary, and his hands moving to the hilts of his daggers ...

Bryallyn landed upon her feet, crouched low to the ground. As she shifted to rise, she became aware of the darker presence beside her, one most definitely male ... and definitely prepared to battle. Tossing back her dark curls away from her face, tilting her head upwards in his direction, she took a slow, deep breath; shuttered her eyes just slightly to help herself focus and began whispering softly, feeling the words taking power and shape around her.

Nathaniel swallowed a gasp as he realized that the form in front of him was a girl ... _No,_ he realized as she slowly rose to her feet, standing tall before him, _definitely a woman with curves like that._ His battle-ready stance eased just a bit at this realization, though he understood well enough that plenty of excellent soldiers in the realm these days were women. Several of those with whom he served in Arl Bryland's army were of the female persuasion. A moment later, he was distracted from his thoughts when he noticed a small falcon landing upon her gloved fist as she stood in front of him, proudly, weaponless, her greenish-brown eyes filled with confidence. Straightening once more, Nathaniel completely eased his lithe frame into a relaxed but defensive position.

Bryallyn surveyed the man in front of her as she had risen to her full height. She found herself curious: his eyes were a stormy grey, filled with a brooding gloom and creases from worry lines; lips that were generous in size but very masculine (lips she could envision many a nobles' daughter sighing and swooning over); a strong noble chin clear of facial hair; a forehead with evidence of worry lines, but nothing too severe, and a nose ... _Oh you poor unfortunate man!_ she thought silently. _To be burdened with such an unfortunate beak ..._ Bryallyn frowned mentally. His profile reminded her of someone, but she could not place it at the moment. Turning her attention to the animal perched upon her outstretched hand, she whispered her thanks to her avian friend and sent him on his way. Once he had cleared her glove, leaving her alone, Bryallyn spoke. "I am sorry if I startled you."

Blinking twice, Nathaniel finally realized that her unexpected voice was lilting, lovely and seemed to fit in with the usual sounds of the garden: the whisper of the wind, the trilling bird song, the rustling of branches and leaves. "No harm done," he finally managed as he watched her flip a long, thick, dark chestnut colored braid over her shoulder. "Though," he added with a small smile, "I feel compelled to ask why you suddenly appeared by dropping out of a tree."

Bryallyn grinned suddenly, the smile reaching to the depths of her eyes. "That, my lord, is a rather long and complicated story," she told him, watching closely for his response.

Nathaniel smiled back, feeling an immediate pull to this woman and unsure as to why. "I have the time if you would like to share, my lady," he returned, adopting the same formality she had used. His defensive stance now completely gone, he offered her his arm, gesturing to the path in front of them. Bryallyn tilted her head in acknowledgement at him, sliding her arm through his as they began to walk. Before they had managed more than a few steps, Nathaniel told her, his voice deep and raspy, "I am Nathaniel, by the way."

Bryallyn blushed. "My apologies for my lack of manners," she responded demurely. "My name is Bryallyn." She watched him digest that. She was used to looks of confusion at the pronunciation. "But, you may call me Bry, if you like."

"Which do you prefer?" he asked in response.

Bryallyn laughed. "I prefer to think my friends and family are at ease enough with me to call me Bry," she responded, "but, alas, not many do."

"Then I shall have to remedy that ... Bry."

She glanced up at his face and saw that he was smiling. She noted that his thick dark brown hair was blowing freely in the breeze, though it reached only near chin-length, he had portions pulled back, including two small braids the met and blended in the back. Taking a deep breath, she murmured, "About what you saw back there ..."

Nathaniel listened over the next little while as Bryallyn described what had occurred. "My family and I were leaving an audience with the king and queen and returning to our apartments when I was ...," she glanced up at him and whispered seriously, "do not laugh at this!"

Nathaniel swallowed a chuckle. "I wouldn't dream of it my lady!" he promised sincerely.

Bryallyn read the mirth in his eyes and eased back into her soft smile as he managed to contain his amusement for her benefit. "I know it sounds crazy, Nathaniel, but I was 'called' to the gardens. As I knew my afternoon was free, I excused myself from my parents, and made my way here. When I first arrived, I simply began walking around," she gestured with her free arm, encompassing the large area that made up the royal gardens, "quite unsure of what had called me, of where I might find whatever it was. It did not take long, however, before I found my way to the trees back there where we ... met."

Nathaniel was beginning to suspect what she was not telling him. "And what did you find when you arrived?" he queried politely. He spotted a bench in front of them and led her to it, waiting for her to be seated before moving beside her.

"It was a baby Ferelden red-breasted falcon, the offspring of the one you saw fly to me," she explained as she watched and admired his graceful movements while he seated himself. "I calmed the larger bird, as well as the baby, and determined that the little one had fallen out of the nest." She saw the unspoken question in his eyes. With a sheepish grin, she added, "Yes, it had injured itself, but I ... carry small health potions with me, on my person, constantly. Just for these types of situations ..."

"Ahh," Nathaniel breathed as he suddenly understood. "This has happened before. You must be a ranger then." He saw her blush darken at his words, and he reached out to squeeze her hand gently. "Your secret is safe with me!" he promised.

Bryallyn laughed. "It's not so much a secret," she told him earnestly. "Actually, it's more that -"

"Bryallyn Theresia Cousland, where are you?"

Bryallyn groaned softly, her gaze snapping to her companion's. "Maker's breath!" she hissed softly. "Mother!" Rising to her feet quickly, she reached into the pocket of her pants.

Nathaniel rose beside her, thinking perhaps at first she was afraid of being caught alone with him in the gardens, unchaperoned. But then she was facing him again, placing something in his hand and closing his fingers over it. "Please, Nathaniel," she begged, "will you dispose of this for me? My mother doesn't mind my rangering skills, but she does get rather put out when I use our health potions to heal the animals!"

Nathaniel murmured, "Of course," just as he lifted his eyes to see an older woman approaching; one he recognized all too easily, and one whom Bryallyn definitely resembled in her facial features. Surreptitiously sliding the offending vial into his own pocket as Bryallyn turned to face her mother, Nathaniel said in greeting, "Your Grace, how good to see you again."

Eleanor Cousland eyed her daughter's companion as she joined the couple, placing him almost immediately. "You are Nathaniel Howe? Rendon's son, are you not?"

Nathaniel nodded respectfully. "Yes, your Grace."

"Mother," Bryallyn interrupted as her earlier impression of him finally hit home, "I'm sorry if I'm late, but -"

"The apologies are mine to make, I'm afraid," Nathaniel cut in quickly. "I was out here wandering around, when I came upon Bryallyn. I engaged her in an intellectual debate on several of the plants in the garden, and I must say, I learned quite a bit from a very knowledgeable source." Nathaniel placed his hand at Bryallyn's shoulder, squeezing it gently before she could step away, encouraging her to follow his lead.

"Yes, ... just so," Bryallyn agreed after a moment's hesitation.

Eleanor gave both young people a hard look, barely able to hide her smile at their inventiveness. "Bryallyn, we will be leaving for the ball in a few hours. You need to come and ready yourself." She heard her daughter's sigh of frustration and softened. "Say good bye to your friend and then come along."

"Yes, mother." Bryallyn watched Eleanor Cousland leave before turning back to Nathaniel while shaking her head and muttering softly, "... to my friend indeed!" Lifting her gaze to his once more, she asked, "Will you be attending the king and queen's coronation ball this evening?"

Nathaniel groaned softly, but nodded. "Unfortunately, I will be," he returned, "though I had forgotten about it until just now. I should be returning to prepare as well." _This ought to give Mother yet something else to rant about._

Bryallyn smiled. Reaching out, she gave his now empty hand a squeeze. "Thank you, Nathaniel," she told him, holding his stormy gaze. "For the conversation and for the ... cover up."

Nathaniel did chuckle this time. "Far be it from me to keep a lady in distress when I can do something to resolve the matter," he murmured. Lifting her hand, he kissed her knuckles before giving her a knowing wink. "Though," he added, "I did not realize at the time that the lady in distress was the Lady Cousland."

Bryallyn blushed again, pulling her hand from his. "Yes, well ... please don't let that get around," she returned in an exaggerated whisper. "Reputation and all that!"

Nathaniel laughed and began walking with her towards the entrance to the palace. "May I look for you this evening?" he asked. "I have enjoyed our conversation and would like to continue it if you are of a mind to."

She nodded slightly and smiled in return. Then with a quick wave, she murmured, "See you this evening!" before darting off towards the Cousland family apartments.


	3. Coronation Ball

_Thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked as well as those who set favs and alerts including: Falwynn, Shakespira, Dark Seducer, jenncgf, Requiem192, sapphiretoes, Lady Dayla, roxfox1962, MelRedux, Piceron, andusir06, Erynnar, The-Enduring-Fox, Aftiel and Isabella Monroe. Your interest in my not so little story simply amazes me - delights me to no end, but amazes me as well! Thank you!_

_Thanks as always to my absolutely wonderful friends and betas: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__ without whose help and support I would get completely overwhelmed and just give up! Please check their stories out as they are wonderful writers in their own right!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ..._

_**A/N:**__ More than any other story I've written (and this, I discovered, is #19) this story has been influenced by particular pieces of music. Below are references to two pieces by Blackmore's Night (songs are listed at the bottom of the page). The songs are on youtube if you would like to check them out, though the clips that they have do not do the songs as much justice as the albums do I think. I have a core of about eight songs from their numerous albums that I listen to while writing this and other DA stories that I think are indicative of the types of music might have been played, particularly in group settings. If anyone is interested knowing the names of the other songs, please feel free to let me know. Assuming I remember to do so, I will try to pass along other songs that have inspired me along the way as this story continues. Enjoy!_

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Bryallyn remained in the back of the ballroom, near the shadows, where it was easier for her to move quickly and keep away from most of the nobles' sons who were searching her out. She hated being the highest ranking unmarried daughter in the kingdom now as it seemed to have placed a target on her back that all nobles' sons of a certain age were aiming for, all in hopes of fulfilling their parents' dreams... Though she refused to play those games, she still had that invisible target upon her ... Swallowing quietly, she spied another boy turning towards her and she began moving yet again. _Oh no you don't!_

Then from across the chamber, she saw him. He was dressed in black trousers, his tunic blue shot with black and silver, colors that emphasized his ruggedly handsome features. _Nathaniel_, she thought, her eyes catching his across the room. She could see a query in the stormy depths, even from this distance, and she found herself smiling with relief. When he nodded slightly towards one of the doorways towards the south side of the palace, she gave him an answering head movement and began making her way in that direction. Sticking to the shadows, for there were still too many unoccupied nobles' sons at this function for her comfort, Bryallyn soon found herself slipping outside into the darkness of the night.

The palace ballroom was on the south side of the building and contained huge glass windows opening out towards the gardens. However, in the evening, with the lighting concentrated on the inside of the room where the festivities were centered, the shadows outside began almost immediately upon stepping onto the grass that began just feet from the doorway.

Nathaniel reached the garden first, waiting for her in the shadows. When he saw her slip out of the doorway, her deep, dark green dress nearly as dark as the shadows surrounding her save for the shots of sliver that ran throughout the hem and sleeves, he reached for her hand, grasping it unerringly in his larger hand and tugging slightly until she stood beside him. He realized that he'd pulled just a bit too hard when he heard her soft laugh, almost a giggle really, and she placed a hand upon his chest to keep from falling over. Moving quickly, he slid a hand to her waist to hold her steady. "Sorry," he murmured.

"No," she replied, her smile evident in her tone of voice, "not necessary."

Nathaniel began leading her further away from the building, just enough so that they could have quiet, privacy, and not have to worry about any movement catching any undue attention from inside the ballroom. They sat on a nearby bench, relaxing in the quietness surrounding them. "What was that you were doing?" he queried after a moment as they settled themselves.

Bryallyn glanced up at him, frowning in confusion. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Nathaniel gestured towards the building. "That ... ducking and dodging thing inside."

Bryallyn did giggle this time. "Oh, _that_. Well, several ... ahem, admirers were stalking me," she replied. "I figured that if they could not find me, then they could not have my attentions for the night."

"Admirers?" Nathaniel echoed.

Bryallyn sighed. "Now that Anora and Cailan have wed, I am the highest ranking, most marriageable woman available. Now every eligible noble's son will come seeking my hand, courting, pleading with me to tell them _they_ are the one whom I should marry." Bryallyn sighed heavily again, shaking her head at the thought. "A damned nuisance if you ask me ..."

Nathaniel nodded suddenly in understanding. "Ahh, I see. A pack of wolves at your heels then."

Bryallyn's laugh was filled with irony. "Trust me, Nathaniel, from personal experience I can tell you I much prefer the pack of wolves! At least I can trust the wolves' intentions to be straightforward and honorable."

They sat talking for a time, occasionally glancing over at the windows to observe the goings-ons indoors, but for the most part simply enjoying the company of the other. He listened to her talk about Highever, about her training as a ranger and when she'd first noticed her affinity with animals. She watched him closely as he told her of his training, first with the bow, which he admitted was his weapon of choice, and then with twin blades. "Like you," he added at one point, "I prefer being in the shadows."

Bryallyn smiled. She was about to make a comment when she heard the minstrels inside begin playing a popular dancing tune.* She smiled as she recognized the song almost immediately. Nathaniel watched the change come over his companion; silver slipper-covered toes began tapping, the soft rustle of the dress material as it bounced, she began humming softly, and he had to wonder if she even knew she was doing it. _Do I dare ask her?_ he wondered, looking around them. It was dark enough, they had room enough, his mother wasn't around to criticize ... would it work?

Bryallyn took a breath to ask him a question when she saw a spark light up the stormy grey of his eyes. Tilting her head sideways, she lifted an eyebrow and asked, "What is it?"

"Would you like to dance?" he asked gesturing to the grassy area to his left.

Bryallyn eyed him quickly, noting a nervousness there, but a true willingness to try. "Of course," she replied, reaching for the hand he extended towards her as he rose. She felt him pull her along gently until they were in the dark, flat, grassy area. Within moments of arriving, she felt his hand at her waist, the other taking her hand as he spun her into the pattern. She chanced a glance up at him as they moved, almost as one, and saw the slight smile teasing his lips. Smiling back at him in enjoyment, she let him lead on.

Nathaniel was amazed at how comfortable he felt moving to the music with her in his arms. The last time his parents had held a party at the keep, he and his siblings had been expected to participate. It had been an unmitigated disaster, as his mother had been more than happy to point out after the event. Particularly for Nathaniel. It had taken the eldest Howe sibling a long while to make himself move beyond that lecture, though his father had reassured him there was no lasting harm done.

But here he stood now; stepping, swishing and swirling, ... _dancing_ as it was truly meant to be done. He found himself relaxing into the rhythm of the song, the ease of the steps. And for her part, Bryallyn actually appeared to be enjoying herself. Her lips were curved up at the edges and slightly apart in a smile of delight, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She obviously knew the dance well, anticipating the movements, stepping almost before he guided her: which, when he thought on it, didn't really surprise him. As a rogue, she would have to be light on her feet. This was simply a natural by-product of that training.

As the song wound down, Bryallyn lifted her head so Nathaniel could see her smile. "That was wonderful!" she said a bit breathlessly, squeezing his hand in hers. "So much nicer when the gentleman actually knows how to dance!"

Nathaniel could not hold back a soft snort. At her look of concern, he explained, "My mother seems to believe my ... courtly skills, particularly dancing, are sadly lacking." He took a few moments to explain.

Bryallyn covered her mouth as she laughed aloud a moment later. "Oh, Nathaniel," she hurried to reassure him when she realized how that had sounded, "have you never watched your mother dance?" With a sparkle in her eyes, and noting he seemed amused, she told him, "My father has mentioned to me upon occasion he has had the great ... misfortune of dancing with her."

"Misfortune?" he queried as he led her back to the bench.

Bryallyn nodded. "Apparently, she tends to step on her partners' feet..."

Nathaniel's grin broadened as she giggled, and he wasn't sure if it was more due to the fact that his mother wasn't as perfect as she thought, or that Bryallyn was enjoying herself so much. "Though I do not claim to be an expert," he told her, "I can safely say I have never abused my partners so."

Smiling contentedly, Bryallyn leaned against his arm, resting her head at his shoulder. "I am glad you were here this evening," she said softly after a while. "I dreaded the thought of ducking around in the shadows all night long." She heard Nathaniel chuckle lightly. "You do realize, do you not, that your younger brother is one of those who has been chasing after me?"

Nathaniel sobered quickly at this thought. "I had not given it much thought, but I suppose that is to be expected," he observed quietly. _Funny_, he thought, _that Father would encourage Thomas but not me._ "Thomas is what you might call 'the good son,' always doing as mother and father bid without question." He sighed and sat back a bit.

Bryallyn watched him in the darkness, sensing a change in his mood. "Nathaniel?" she called softly.

Nathaniel heard her, but it was a moment before he responded. "Yes?"

Bryallyn rose to her feet, tugging lightly at his hand as she did so. "Walk with me for a bit?" She was glad to see him rise and offer her an arm without question. Sliding hers through, they began walking down the pathway they and followed earlier in the day. Out of range of the palace and the trees, the full moon shone down providing plenty of light to see.

"How much longer will you be in Denerim?" she asked as they walked.

Nathaniel was quiet a moment before responding, "Two or three more days at most, I expect. Yourself?"

"The same."

Again, silence save for the breeze wafting through the leaves of the trees and the distant sound of music and chatter coming from the ballroom. Nathaniel glanced down at Bryallyn for a moment to find her staring ahead of them, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. Frowning slightly, he searched for something with which to engage her in conversation.

"Perhaps we could -"

"If you will be in the city, maybe we could -"

Bryallyn blushed, glanced down at her feet in embarrassment as she spoke over his words and dropped his arm at the same time. "I'm sorry," she told him.

Nathaniel smiled, his own cheeks tinged a bit red. "No, the fault was mine." He waited for her to look back up at him, knowing that she would. Once she did, he widened his smile just a bit. "Please, continue."

Bryallyn thought about protesting, but realized that he would simply keep insisting ... "I was thinking," she told him, "that if you were still going to be in the city, perhaps we could ... train together? I was thinking our styles are similar enough, they might be compatible ..."

Nathaniel looked down at her and noticed a hesitation there, combined with embarrassment. He lifted a brow indicating the thought interested him. "What did you have in mind?" he asked.

Bryallyn sighed. "We could meet at the training yard here at the palace tomorrow?" She thought a bit longer. "Yes, I think that would work best. I will ask my father tonight if he could help arrange it."

Taking a deep breath, Bryallyn straightened, hearing the music behind them once more. "I suppose we ought to get back inside before someone sends out a search party looking for us," she said softly.

Nathaniel thought he could detect disappointment in her tone. Offering her an arm, he turned and began leading her back to the ballroom. They were silent most of the way until they had almost reached the doors. When she came to a sudden stop, it was all he could do not to run into her. Spinning around, she asked him quickly, "There can only be one or two dances left, as late as it is. Would you be willing to be my partner for them? To ... protect me from the pack of wolves as it were?"

The thought nearly made Nathaniel faint. Dancing outside, with no one else around them and in the darkness was one thing. But in a crowded room with everyone watching? He preferred the shadows, it was one of the reasons he enjoyed being a rogue. Glancing down at her face, however, he saw a brightness that had been there since shortly after he had found her earlier, and he found that had no desire to disappoint her. Swallowing whatever fears he might have, he nodded. "I would be happy to," he told her. "Anything to help a lady in distress ..." They entered the building to the sound of her laughter.

* * *

Bryce Cousland, Teyrn of Highever, led his wife out onto the dance floor a short while later for the last dance of the evening.** He smiled at Cailan and Anora who also joined them, as well as Loghain and his partner on the far side of the couple. Turning to Eleanor, he murmured, "Who is that dancing with our Pup?"

Eleanor gave her husband a teasing smile, replying quietly, "What's the matter, darling? Afraid your daughter has actually found a young man whose company she enjoys?"

Bryce chuckled. He knew better than to fall for that. "I'm just curious, Ellie."

"That is Nathaniel Howe ... Rendon's oldest," she told him as he took her hand and turned her in a circle. "They apparently met earlier this afternoon in the royal gardens."

Bryce frowned. "That's Nathaniel?" he mused. "I had not realized it's been so long since we'd last seen him ... Rendon sent him away so young. Does Bry even remember him?"

"I don't believe so," Eleanor replied. "She certainly didn't indicate that she did when we were getting ready earlier." Stepping back to her place, Eleanor and the other women clapped in beat with the tune. "I'm not so sure that he remembers her either."

Bryce glanced over at his daughter who, he had to admit, seemed to be enjoying herself finally at the ball. He had seen her earlier in the evening, her usual "ducking and dodging" routine with boys who seemed overly anxious at obtaining her favors.

"Is there anything to this?" Eleanor asked after a short while.

Bryce gave her a tolerant smile. "Ellie, she's old enough to decide for herself. Remember? We discussed this when she turned seventeen. Let her be. When it's right, she will tell us." Reaching out for his wife's hands, he turned her into position to hold her for the last portion of the dance.

Four couples away from her parents, Bryallyn moved into a similar position with Nathaniel. Nearby she saw Fergus and Oriana, and down further Nathaniel's mother and father. With a gentle smile, she glanced up at Nathaniel. "Not so bad, is it?" she asked.

Nathaniel swallowed, though he was silently admitting that she was right. "Not as bad as I thought," he admitted as they came to their end position. Taking her arm, he began leading her off the dance floor. He guided her over to the rest of her family, pointedly ignoring his own for the moment, certain he would pay for it later, but uncaring. Bryallyn was right: he had enjoyed himself after their return indoors, and he intended to make the feeling last as long as possible.

Bryce glanced up as he saw his daughter and her companion approach. "Have a good time, Pup?" he asked.

"I did," she agreed. When she heard Fergus sniggering nearby, she glared at him ... until Oriana slapped his arm lightly and admonished, "Husband, enough! This is not the time nor the place to torment your sister."

Bryce nodded at Nathaniel as the younger man released Bryallyn's arm. "You are Rendon Howe's eldest, are you not?"

Nathaniel nodded. "Yes, your Grace. Nathaniel."

"Ah, that's right." Bryce began to speak further with Nathaniel and led him off towards the left. When Bryallyn would have followed, Eleanor caught her daughter's arm. "No, darling, let your father have some time with him."

Bryallyn gave her mother a puzzled expression. "... 'have some time ...' But, ... why? All we did was dance, mother. It's not like he's courting me. We are simply friends."

Eleanor smiled and patted her daughter's arm, turning her towards the doorway that would lead them towards the family apartments. "Because, Bry, he is your father, and as such, he has certain ... duties he feels he must uphold ..."

"Maker's breath!" Bryallyn hissed in exasperation. "Had I realized he would be subjected to a bloody inquisition, I would have insisted Nathaniel return to his family before I came over here!"

Eleanor chuckled. She heard Fergus and Oriana behind them and pushed her daughter forward. "Come along, darling, we can deal with your father tomorrow."

* * *

* _Under a Violet Moon_ - Blackmore's Night

** _The Clock Ticks On_ - Blackmore's Night


	4. Practice What You Preach

_I know you've come to expect the chapters once per week, but I've become impatient, and since I am several chapters ahead of myself, I thought I would go ahead and share a second one this week. This may not always happen, but at this point, I am too excited with the response to this story to not go ahead and share!_

_Thank you to all who are reading, reviewing and lurking, as well as those setting alerts and favs including: Shakespira, jenncgf, Piceron, roxfox1962 and CynderJenn._

_My eternal gratitude to my fabulous betas: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin **__who keep me honest and on track! Thank you, my dears! You are the awesome sauce!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ..._

_**A/N:**__ musical influences on this chapter: "This is War" by 30 Seconds to Mars, "Playing With the Boys" by Kenny Loggins, and "Be My Hero" by October Project._

_

* * *

_

Her father's promise echoing inside her head, Bryallyn dressed in her leather armor armed with her bow and dagger, and headed out of the family apartments towards the east. She was to meet Nathaniel at the palace training yard there in just a short while. It took her some time, the building being as large as it was, and she slowed her pace somewhat knowing that she had time. When she did finally arrive at the training yard, she found the area fenced off into several partitioned sections, some including practice dummies were obviously intended for those who were alone. She located the proper section and began to prepare for her upcoming sparring session with Nathaniel.

Nathaniel entered the practice yard a short time later to find Bryallyn warming up. For the briefest of moments, just upon entering the yard and while he still remained in the shadows near the doorway, Nathaniel simply watched. The young woman had a natural grace about her, something that he could see clearly in her movements as she switched from one position to the next. Part of him wanted to stand there all day and simply watch her because he knew that it was a rare gift that many did not have, but he realized that would be impossible if only because he knew that she was persistent enough to go looking for him if he didn't show himself.

As he stepped forward, he noticed the others in the yard who were there ... practicing ... and watching. Rolling his eyes, Nathaniel stepped forward half wondering if this had been such a good idea after all.

Bryallyn glanced up at the sound of approaching footsteps on the gravel and dirt. Straightening, she glanced up to find Nathaniel entering the practice ring. He was dressed in his leather armor as well and was setting his gear aside when she called out, "Good morning."

Nathaniel nodded at her, his silence more an affect of their audience than anything else.

Bryallyn finished her stretch and moved to his side. "Are you all right?" she queried softly.

Nathaniel shrugged as he did some warming up of his own. He watched as Bryallyn stepped back, leaning against the fencing to observe his movements. "I'm fine," he told her, unwilling to go into more detail. "Did I keep you waiting long?"

Bryallyn shook her head. "Not at all. I was just about to start working against a practice dummy if you hadn't shown up." She straightened and asked, "Which would you prefer to do first? Long range or close up?"

Nathaniel took a moment to think this through. "I think we should work on melee skills for now," he told her. "We can finish with the targets. I think we might be more inclined to attract a larger audience with that particular activity."

Bryallyn frowned. "Larger audience ...?" She glanced around them and finally noticed the others out on the practice field whose attentions were directed at them. Sighing heavily and rolling her eyes, she turned back towards Nathaniel. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I'm just so used to my father's men accepting me and my presence in the practice yard at Highever ..." She sighed and glanced away. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to, Nathaniel."

Nathaniel straightened. "Not a problem," he told her. He led her in the direction of the practice weapons, watched as she chose hers - a dagger - and then chose his own. "You don't use two weapons?" he asked curiously.

Bryallyn shrugged. "I don't really use one that well," she admitted. "My weapon is my bow, Nathaniel. If someone is getting that close to me, I still use the bow, but usually I don't let them get that close to begin with. Then there's the whole ... animal thing ...?"

Nathaniel nodded and tried to hide his surprise, but knew he hadn't been successful when he saw her lips quirk up in a smile. Sighing, he reached over for a second dagger. "Take this," he told her, passing it over. "I think we really may have our work cut out for us now."

Bryallyn turned and followed him back to the ring. "Oh? How so?"

Sighing, Nathaniel turned towards her. "I am going to begin teaching you some of the dual weapons techniques I've learned over the years. I don't like the idea of you not being able to defend yourself with only your bow as a weapon."

Bryallyn sighed. "You are beginning to sound like Fergus and Father ...," she muttered, her mood darkening a bit.

"Did you ever think that perhaps they might have understood the situation better?" he challenged quietly. "The necessity for close arms combat skills, particularly for a woman?"

"I am quite capable of taking care of my-"

Nathaniel's sudden glare cut her words short. "Is that so?" he asked, his voice harsh, his body moving to take an aggressive stance as he began to circle her. He watched her change positions and begin moving as well. "Let's just see what would happen if you came face to face with a situation where you needed to defend yourself up close and personal like." Nathaniel continued to move, almost stalking her as if she were the enemy. He feinted left first, but she didn't move. A bit more circling. Another feint. Then a double feint.

Bryallyn placed all of her focus on Nathaniel as he began moving around her. _I can take care of myself quite well, thank you very much!_ she thought huffily. She kept her eyes on his, watching his every move. She remembered the basics she had been taught: keep your focus on your enemy's eyes, they will tell you the truth of the situation. She watched Nathaniel feint with his blade, but did not react to it. She continued moving, no attempts at her own attack, and was prepared for his next feint ... and the one that came hard afterwards ...

Nathaniel evaluated her reactions to his movements. _She knows the first rule_, he realized with some satisfaction. _Good. Let's see how she does with the next ..._

Bryallyn kept her eyes on his as he pulled away from her a bit, putting more distance between them. This move caught her off guard. _What is he doing?_ she wondered, her eyes narrowing. She maintained the contact with his eyes, and was able to see when he made his move. Countering, she blocked his attack and spun away.

Nathaniel had the advantage he knew. Aside from simply being taller and stronger, he was more familiar with holding and wielding two weapons at one time. Though Bryallyn seemed to have the basics down for close combat fighting, she was not used to holding or using a second weapon as a defense. Backing off, he started circling again. _She knows to look at the eyes_, he told himself, _let's see what she does when that is taken away from her._ Without a sound, he shifted into his shadow forms.

Bryallyn gasped as Nathaniel suddenly disappeared from her view. _Where did he go?_ she wondered. She glanced around, her whole body on guard as she suddenly realized her vulnerability. She had heard of shadow rogues, of their ability to shift in and out of the shadows while fighting, using them almost as much as a weapon as any blade or bow. It seemed that Nathaniel had been studying this style.

"It seems I found a lapse in your training," Nathaniel's deep voice murmured near her ear. He had moved behind her, positioning himself against her back, one hand with a training blade at her waist, the other over her opposite shoulder with the training blade at her throat. "You are walking down the streets of Denerim, unescorted, all alone. You've been attacked from behind. What do you do now?"

Bryallyn's breath caught at the first whisper. Years of training with her bow, on keeping her focus despite noise, movement or any other distraction, kept Bryallyn from making a sound or moving before she was ready. But, when he asked what what she would do then, she allowed the instinctual, distinctive training that she had learned from her mother and Nan take over. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she released it slowly. In less than a heart beat, she collapsed her slender frame, her body sliding between his arms towards the ground.

Nathaniel knew the moment that she didn't respond to his words, his actions, that she was up to something else. Just what he was not sure of ... until she moved, sagging in his arms, catching him off guard. His instinctual reaction was to catch her, but she slid through is arms too quickly, and the moment she landed at his feet, he felt her spinning, her leg connecting with his, her elbow jamming up behind her to catch him in his mid-section.

Bryallyn backed away from him then, her weapons out in front of her, her gaze locked back onto him as he fell to the ground, clearly unprepared for her style. "_That_ is what I do!" she hissed, struggling to catch her breath.

Nathaniel, for his part, did not collapse in a compete lump on the ground. His training, his natural instinctual reaction for self preservation had served him well. He landed on one knee, the other bent up for him to lean his arm upon. He gasped for breath as he looked at her. He saw her eyes flashing intently, something more there than he had seen before. _I've triggered something_, he realized belatedly. "Bry?" he called out between gasps.

Bryallyn found herself blinking several times, the haze of reaction that had overtaken her for that one moment finally beginning to fade. Taking several deep breaths, she replayed the last few moments over in her mind. When he called her name out, looking for a response, she felt horror blindside her. Dropping her weapons, she moved to his side. "Nathaniel!" she gasped. "I'm - I'm so sorry!"

Nathaniel bit back a groan at the pain in his leg from her kick. "No," he finally managed, struggling for a moment as he rose to his feet. "It ... is obvious you have some ... training."

Bryallyn glanced up at him, her eyes searching his. "Nathaniel, I-"

Nathaniel smiled gently through his pain. "No harm done, Bry," he told her, his arm moving to her shoulder in an effort to help him maintain his balance for just a moment longer. "My mistake. Obviously your father and brother have had you trained well enough."

"No," she told him, staying by his side as they walked over to the fencing. "That was my mother's idea. My father and my brother have no clue."

Taking a deep breath, Nathaniel chuckled and nodded. "Well, your mother used very good sense when she had you trained then," he told her. Another deep breath and Nathaniel felt himself feeling more like normal. "Though I do think you should consider additional training, particularly with two weapons, I know now that you are quite capable of defending yourself."

Bryallyn gave him a long look as he brushed his hair back from his face, took a long drink from the waterskin he had brought with him. When he handed it to her, she nodded and took a sip as well. When she handed it back, she made a decision. "Would you ... be willing to show me?" she asked. When he lifted his head a bit, she added, "Just some of the basics, I know we don't have enough time for thorough instruction. Just so I know how to at least hold and use two weapons properly?"

Nathaniel watched her closely, the way she took her time to think about it, to evaluate all that had just happened, before she asked. Nodding, he replied, "I can do that." When he rose to his feet, he led her back into the center of the ring and started to show her the different positioning, some defensive movements and a few offensive ones as well. After working with her on the new moves and movements, he ran her through a mock battle again, this one focused solely on what he had just taught her. The results were not bad for a morning's worth of training, but Nathaniel decided to go over the techniques once more, refining movements, detailing the stances, repeating the battle moves. Then they battled again. This time, Nathaniel was smiling, obviously pleased with the results.

When they finished, some couple hours later, Bryallyn smiled up at him. "Thank you, Nathaniel."

Nathaniel smiled back. "Glad I could help." Glancing around, he found that many of the soldiers who had been her training earlier had left, and as he began to wonder why, he felt his stomach grumble.

Bryallyn heard the noise and was about to tease him when hers did the same. With a grin, she suggested, "Shall we stop for lunch?"

Nathaniel nodded. "Why not?" he asked. He gathered their training weapons and returned them. Then, joining her back at the practice ring, he retrieved his blades, arming himself once more. As he did so, he watched her adjust her bow at her back, setting the quiver just so. Additionally, he noted that she was now wearing a dagger at her waist. "So," he said conversationally as he offered her an arm to lean on while stepping through the fence, "I need an armed escort to the Market District, do I?"

Bryallyn smiled. Joining him at his side, she commented, "No more so than I, I should think. Is that where you are headed to eat then?"

Nathaniel nodded, gesturing her through the door. As she continued to walk beside him, he realized that she too was heading in that direction. "You as well, I see."

Bryallyn smiled. "I thought I might ... buy you lunch," she said softly. "To make up for my behavior earlier."

Nathaniel frowned. "Bry, you don't need to -"

She glanced up at him. "Please, Nathaniel, I insist." She watched as he sighed, slightly dramatically she thought, but then nodded. "I was thinking of one of the local food vendors, if you don't mind?" He tilted his head in question. With a smile, she added, "There's one behind Wade's shop that does these fabulous meat pies ..."

They walked along, taking main streets and avoiding the alleyways heading towards the Market District on the eastern end of Denerim. As they walked, they chatted about inconsequential things, mostly about their lives as children in their respective homes. Nathaniel told her about having a younger sister and brother, about his time spent wandering around the Arling of Amaranthine when he could find it, about squiring for Arl Bryland down in South Reach.

Bryallyn for her part told him about growing up with an older brother who loved to torment her, of discovering one day while out walking in the forests around Highever of the affinity she had with animals, of rescuing her brother from kidnappers and using that incident to convince her parents and her brother that she should be allowed to train with Highever's men. She also told him of the times she would sneak out of the castle, usually at night, to wander around the town of Highever, meeting the people, learning about them and coming to be friends with a few of them.

Upon their return to the palace training grounds that afternoon, Bryallyn asked, "Are you still up for a shooting match?"

Nathaniel saw the enthusiasm in her eyes and did not have the heart to disappoint her. "I'm game if you are," he agreed. _This should be interesting._

Bryallyn smiled and walked with him over to the archery range which was, for obvious reasons, set apart from the sparring rings. There were targets available for four lanes, so they chose the two furthest away from the rest of the training area just to be safe. They prepared themselves, setting aside their other weapons and focusing solely on their bows and quivers. Each adjusted their equipment and armor accordingly. When satisfied with the results, they began warming up.

Nathaniel focused down the range, sighting the target. The wind was not much of an issue at the moment, as they were walled in within the boundaries of the training yard. This perturbed him a bit as the wind was an essential factor in proper archery technique. But, as he had no control over their competition location he let it go.

Bryallyn checked her bowstring before she began, something she did each and every day as well, but out of habit before a competition. Pulling an arrow from her quiver, she nocked it, raised her bow, sighted and ...

* * *

Though exiting Cailan's study, Bryce Cousland was still speaking with Loghain and the king when they realized there was a buzz of activity going on around them. Distracted, the men glanced around a moment, Cailan finally asking one of his guards, "Miller, what's going on? Are we being invaded or something?"

The guard chuckled softly, apparently used to the new king's slightly off-beat sense of humor. "Not at all, your Majesty," he replied. "Word has come down of quite an archery competition being held out on the training grounds. Some of the men are just in a hurry to arrive so that they can partake in the wagering I would imagine."

Cailan heard Loghain scoff beside him. With a smile of encouragement, he asked, "Who are the competitors?" He glanced at the two Teyrns and added, "Perhaps we should attend? Give it the royal seal of approval?"

Bryce smiled knowing how Cailan enjoyed military competitions as a form of entertainment. He caught Loghain's eye, the other man not nearly as tolerant.

"It is between the Arl of Amaranthine's son and the Lady Bryallyn, your Majesty."

Bryce felt the eyes of his two companions turn towards him, and he groaned inwardly. Sighing heavily, for he knew that Cailan would indeed insist upon watching the match now, Bryce said, "I had no idea, your Majesty. I knew the two were taking to the practice yards today, but I had no forewarning of any such competition." He noted as they began following Cailan down the hall that the king's guards fell in behind them...

* * *

Eleanor Cousland was not in good humor to say the least. Sighing, she stopped by Oriana's room first and whispered, "Would you do me a favor, my dear?"

Oriana rose from where she had been sitting, beside her son's bed as he slept. "Yes, of course, mother," the younger woman replied.

"The Arl of Amaranthine is here, to see me of all people. I do not wish to be in a room alone with him. Would you please come with me? Nan," the Teyrna nodded at the woman standing nearby, "will watch after Oren for you."

Oriana nodded, reaching for her shawl. "Of course," she replied, falling into step beside her mother-in-law. She had heard enough, seen enough since marrying Fergus to know that the teyrna, though considering the Arl as a family friend, did not care for the man as an individual.

Entering the main sitting room, Eleanor plastered a smile onto her features and greeted Rendon Howe. "I'm sorry Bryce is not here, Rendon. May I help in some way?"

The man smiled at her, and Eleanor felt her stomach churn. "My lady," his nasally voice intoned, "I was actually looking for my eldest, Nathaniel. I had been told that he and your daughter were to train together today. When I went in search for the pair, I was unable to locate them. Might you know where they could be found?"

Eleanor was startled by this news. Though she knew about the training session itself, she had not realized that Bryallyn had not yet returned. She glanced at Oriana a moment, but the Antivan shrugged lightly, clearly as much in the dark as Eleanor. "I am sorry, Rendon," Eleanor replied, "I have not seen them either. Perhaps they went for a walk in the gardens?"

The Arl was about to reply when the doors to the apartments were thrown open loudly, and Eleanor looked up to see her son striding inside hurriedly. "Fergus!" she gasped.

Fergus had the decency to look a bit sheepish. "Sorry, Mother," he told her, kissing her cheek. "I was in a bit of a rush. There is something going on I think you might be interested in." He took the next few moments to explain the match down at the training grounds. "Apparently, it has been going on for quite a while now. It seems as if Bryallyn may have met her match."

Clearly intrigued, Eleanor reached for her shawl before following both her son and the Arl of Amaranthine out of the apartments.

* * *

Bryallyn nocked her arrow and lifted her bow yet again. She'd lost count how many rounds she and Nathaniel had split between them. As she sighted this time, she felt a rivulet of sweat trickle into her eye. Cursing softly, she took a moment to wipe the moisture away before raising the bow again. Her shot hit dead center again. Lowering her bow, she waited on Nathaniel.

To be honest with himself, Nathaniel had given up hope of winning the competition after the first five rounds. He had known she would be good, for having focused her training almost exclusively on the bow, he would at least hope she would be a decent shot. What had surprised him was her accuracy and consistency. After the first five rounds, he was sure she was a better shot than him. And, where this might displease his parents, Nathaniel felt that it was something he could learn from.

Bryallyn knew that a crowd had gathered, but she refused to acknowledge them, afraid that by doing so she would interrupt her focus and concentration. Taking a deep breath, she lined up her next shot ...

Nathaniel followed suit. The crowd didn't bother him so much, though there was a reason he was learning to be a shadow rogue: he preferred fighting from the dark. No one could see you coming and your chances of survival were increased. However, his greater concern at the moment was if his father found out. Rendon Howe expected perfection from his children, and was thoroughly displeased when he received anything less. Despite the fact that Nathaniel and Bryallyn were equally skilled, Nathaniel knew his father would find fault with him.

Bryallyn was watching Nathaniel take his shot, biting her lip as she focused on his technique, eyed his finger placement on the bowstring, the strength in the pull ...

Nathaniel was startled by the sound of a man behind him sneezing rather loudly, and it was just enough for his aim to go awry. When it landed, well outside the center of the target, he realized he had lost. Oddly enough, however, he had no sense of disappointment at the results. Taking a deep breath, lowering his bow to his side, he turned to face Bryallyn. Nodding his concession, he told her, "I yield, my lady."

Stunned, Bryallyn glanced at the landing site of his last shot. "Nathaniel, we'll redo it. That wasn't right -"

Nathaniel smiled warmly, lifting his hand. "No, Bry, it was well within the rules. You and I both know that everything must be taken into consideration. You won fair and square."

Before either could say another word, their conversation was interrupted by the king who chose that moment to step forward. "Wonderful! Well played, both of you!"

Bryallyn's eyes snapped to Nathaniel's who winked at her. Smiling, she turned to face the king. "Thank you, your Majesty," she told him with a slight bow. Nathaniel echoed her movement.

With a large grin, Cailan took a hand of each in turn and shook it warmly. "Never have I seen such an excellent display of marksmanship! And, I do apologize," he added a bit more quietly, "for my inopportune sneeze at the end there."

Bryallyn glanced down at her feet to keep from laughing as Nathaniel replied, "Not at all, your Majesty. We are glad you enjoyed it."

Bryallyn nodded, lifting her head again. Behind the king she began to search the crowd ... _Oh no!_ she thought moments later as she spied her father, mother, brother and other faces she recognized. She felt Nathaniel stiffen slightly beside her and suspected that he had just noticed his father standing beside her parents. The king, on the other hand, turned them both in the direction of the crowd and led them along, chatting to them enthusiastically about the portion of the match he had witnessed. "Perhaps," he added as they arrived beside the rest of the onlookers, "I should have the two of you teaching my archers, hmm?" With that, he departed with his guards and Loghain following behind. Bryallyn thought she heard Cailan saying, "Glorious! Simply glorious!" as he walked through the doors.

Bryallyn took a step closer to Nathaniel as it seemed the majority of watchers now wanted to close in on them to speak, touch or otherwise engage their attentions. She felt her breath catch for a moment, not used to such focus except perhaps from her family members ... until finally a familiar face stepped into her view. Glancing up at him, his smile as bright as any other, Bryallyn faced her father. When she would have spoken, Bryce shook his head. Stepping closer, Bryallyn saw her mother step around him to one side, her brother to the other. "Well done, Bry," Bryce told her quietly. "I am so very proud of you!"

Eleanor hugged her daughter, whispering, "I think it may be almost time for us to have another competition of our own, my darling!"

Bryallyn was taken aback by that. Periodically, usually once a year, she and her mother would have a friendly competition. Bryallyn was aware that her mother was testing her on her skill, to see what she had learned, perfected. But they had just had their battle a scant four months before!

"Well done, little sister!" Fergus told her with a hug. "As soon as Oren is big enough to hold a short bow, I think I might have to have you give him lessons!"

Bryallyn blushed at this. "Of - of course!" she agreed, unable to think of anything else to say.

For Nathaniel, things were much different. He was only half listening as his father ranted quietly, having pulled him off to the side of the range. " ... beaten by a woman of all things! Perhaps I should send you farther away, better training? More stringent conditions?"

Nathaniel sighed. This would not wind up well, he knew. It apparently didn't matter that the king had been pleased with the results, Rendon Howe had not been. Nathaniel chanced a sideways glance to the side and saw Bryallyn hugging her family members. _That_ was how family should behave.

* * *

From a far corner of the compound, deep within the shadows, a softly voiced conversation could not be overheard. "Was I right to bring you in, Commander?"

The older man, dark in looks, hair and thoughtful in appearance nodded sagely. "Yes, Bernardo,***** this was definitely worth my time. I suspect we shall have to keep and eye on them both."

Both men watched as the crowd began dispersing out of the practice range and back into the royal palace.

* * *

***A/N:** Bernardo is a character created by Erynnar who, with kind permission, has allowed me to borrow him here.


	5. Visiting Amaranthine

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those who have set favs and alerts including: Evalyne, sephina-rose, roxfox1962, MelRedux, Grannah, Miltonia, Edward Cullen's Girl, Piceron, jenncgf, Kilera, Kira76, MireliAmbar, ProsePrincess and eireanestower._

_Thank you as always to my wonderfully talented betas: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__. Thank you, my friends! Your input is invaluable!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ..._

_**A/N:**__ Songs for this chapter: "Closer to the Edge" by 30 Seconds to Mars (yes, you will see this title appear a lot - it's as good as "This is War" for my writing inspiration!), "Under a Violet Moon" by Blackmore's Night, and the entire OST for "The Piano." (too many songs to choose from - all are great!)_

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The days and weeks following the family's return to Highever from the capitol city were always fraught with confusion. First there was the adjustment of bringing a large part of the household back into the castle, schedules to adjust, chores to reassign. Then there was the inevitable backlog of tasks and duties that had built up because it had demanded the skills of one who had been absent. It was in this vein that Bryallyn often found herself assisting her father. Whereas Fergus would often take issues dealing with the troops, only bringing in Bryce when absolutely necessary, Bryallyn had, at a fairly young age, taken on assisting the Cousland patriarch with his correspondence.

It never failed to amaze her, as she sat at his desk sorting out missives into various piles, at the sheer quantity of communications that could arrive during an almost three month absence. To add to it, newer messages continued to arrive on top of those she was sorting through. Bryallyn was now in her third week of assisting Bryce, her job almost complete, when she came across a seal she recognized immediately. _Amaranthine!_ As her father was nearby, Bryallyn tried to maintain a casual and composed reaction, but she heard a soft chuckle from across the room where Bryce was looking over some maps. Bryallyn glanced out of the corner of her eye, but her father refused to look over at her. Sighing, she returned to the chore at hand.

Opening the folded parchment, she began scanning the document, discerning the reason for the message. A quick glance at the signature confirmed that the overly effusive message was indeed sent by the Arl of Amaranthine himself. _Pretentious prat,_ she thought silently. Sighing again, she reread the message, sorting out the main points. "Father?" she called at last.

"Yes?"

Bryallyn glanced up at him openly now. Lifting the document, she waved it slightly and said, "Arl Howe is requesting that you and mother visit in the next month or two. Something about discussing plans for the next Landsmeet?"

Bryce chuckled again and crossed the room to take the message. He read it silently, occasionally nodding as he did, and Bryallyn simply rested her chin on her hand and watched him, a soft smile playing at her lips. She enjoyed helping her father with the correspondence. Though she and her parents had always been close, she felt this was one way, a special way almost that she and her father could ... bond, she supposed. With her mother, it was different as they had much more in common.

Bryallyn's thoughts were interrupted when Bryce told her, "I will have to discuss this with your mother, I suppose."

Their eyes connecting, Bryallyn held his gaze and noticed something there that she could not quite decipher. Tilting her head to the side slightly she asked, "May I come too?"

Bryce tried to bite back a grin, but knew he failed when she looked at him in confusion. Sighing heavily, because he knew in his heart he could deny his daughter nothing, but also knowing that his wife would be ready to argue it at the mere thought, he replied, "That decision will have to be left up to your mother, Pup." When Bryallyn opened her mouth to argue her point, but Bryce lifted his hand, cutting off the words before they began. "Why don't we go and discuss this with her now, hmm?"

Bryallyn smiled and rose to her feet. Together, father and daughter left the study (it was nearing time for the evening meal anyway), and went in search of Eleanor. Mentally, Bryallyn began working on her best arguments so that she would convince her mother.

* * *

Bryallyn finished her packing, hoisted the bag over her shoulder and left her room to find her parents. She passed her brother's room on the way, and ducked inside for a quick goodbye. Spying Fergus lying in bed and Oriana sitting over in a chair near the window, she murmured softly, "I will see you in when we get back."

Oriana rose immediately and crossed the room to give the younger woman a warm hug. "May the Maker keep you all safe in your travels, Bryallyn," she murmured softly as she pulled back.

Bryallyn nodded and hugged her sister-in-law back. "How is he?"

Oriana smiled. "He will be fine. It is simply the latest stomach bug. Nothing that a little time and misery will not cure."

Bryallyn bit her lip worriedly, glancing at her brother's sleeping form. He was pale, looked to have a fever, and over all simply appeared deathly ill. With one more look at Oriana who nodded reassuringly and began shooing Bryallyn along, the younger woman took her leave.

She made her way through the keep quickly, meeting up with her parents in the front courtyard where the horses were waiting. Her parents were already mounted, the selected Highever men mounting as she arrived. Securing her pack to the animal, Bryallyn turned to mount up when she saw Ser Roland (Rory to her and her family) Gilmore move to her side to assist. With a smile, she allowed him to give her a leg up, and as she settled into her stirrups and seat, she told him with a broad wink, "Make sure that brother of mine gets well before he starts changing the entire keep around!"

Rory chuckled softly, nodding and replying, "You know how stubborn your brother can be, my lady. I shall do my best but you must not hold me to any promises!"

Bryallyn began the journey near the middle of the small caravan leaving Highever and heading out cross country to Amaranthine. By the time they had been on the road an hour or so, she had made it up to the front of the group near her parents. As she approached, she could hear her mother saying, "I just don't think it was a wise decision to bring her with us, Bryce! You remember what happened -"

"Ellie," Bryce was saying, "she's smart and knows how to take care of herself. She has wanted to see Amaranthine for a long while now, and as she and Delilah are friends, why not? Besides," he added, "you did agree ..."

Bryallyn found herself holding back just a bit at these comments. She knew they were talking about her insistence upon going with them. Truth be told, she had chosen to go because she wanted to see Nathaniel again, perhaps have him train her some more in the dual weapon style he had introduced her to in Denerim. But from what her mother was implying, there was something more at risk ... though she had no idea what it could be, and it did not seem as if her mother was going to expand upon her earlier comments.

* * *

Nathaniel returned to his room after an afternoon of training with his father's men to find Delilah seated in a chair by his window. "Well," he said in a quiet voice as he began removing his weapons and setting them aside, "this is a pleasant surprise. Either you have finally learned to pick locks, or you have somehow made an impression of my key."

Delilah simply lifted a brow in question as she rose to face him. They both knew neither was the case as their parents refused to allow any of their children to have locking doors on their rooms inside of the keep. "I have something to tell you," she informed him in a neutral voice.

Nathaniel snorted as he began unbuckling some of his armor. "Are you still searching for Miss Maggie? I thought I told you years ago that I had nothing to do with that." He watched his sister roll her eyes at him, her look crying out, "I know you were behind that, quit trying to place blame elsewhere!"

"Actually," she said, her voice lowering a bit, taking on a teasing quality, "I was going to remind you that the Couslands will be arriving here in the next day or two."

Nathaniel groaned softly. "Yes, sister, I am aware of their impending visit. You may tell mother that I will be properly attired -"

"Bry will be with them."

Nathaniel knew that his sudden silence gave him away and as he searched his sister's face, he saw the spark of amusement and mischief flare behind eyes that nearly matched his own in color. "What are you up to, Del?" he asked.

Delilah bit back a cheeky grin and turned towards the doorway. "Nothing, brother," she assured him, her voice just a bit too casual. "I just thought you might like to know." She giggled and cried out in laughter in the next moment as he used his martial skills to cross the room quickly and catch her by her arm. "Is something amiss, brother?" she teased.

"Del!"

Delilah grinned and kissed his cheek. "Have no fear, I will not tell her," she promised. "Though I do think that if you wish to keep it a secret from her and her family, you should learn to hide your feelings better!"

Nathaniel could not contain the growl in his throat and watched as his sister ran off, an amused look still upon her face. Sighing then, he turned back into his room and closed the door. He was delighted at the thought of seeing Bryallyn again, yet he was also cognizant of the fact that having her here at Amaranthine, around his family, she would probably see him in a completely different light than she had at the palace or if he were to visit her at Highever. Nathaniel turned back into the room and began preparing for the evening meal with his family. As he did so, he began planning silently for the time that Bryallyn would be at the keep ... particularly activities that would get her away from his parents ... _Perhaps we could go on a hunt ...?_

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It took a week to get from Highever to Amaranthine, but Bryallyn didn't mind. The distance was similar from Highever to Denerim, and she had made that trip on many an occasion. When they pulled into the courtyard of the keep, Bryallyn began scanning around for her friends. A short time later, as her parents were dismounting, and Bryallyn did the same, she finally heard the loud nasal tones of the Arl of Amaranthine approaching. Turning slightly as she removed her pack from her horse, she saw the man speaking to her father ... alone. Frowning, she scanned around again.

"Ah, and here is Bryce's spitfire of a girl! Welcome to Amaranthine, my dear."

Out of the corner of her eye, Bryallyn saw her mother whispering to her father, motioning towards her, but Bryallyn turned her attention to the Arl. "Thank you, your Grace," she replied.

Rendon Howe reached out to place a hand at her back and guide her towards her parents, who were now turning to climb up the steps into the keep.

A short time later, Bryallyn found herself in her room, unpacking her bag and preparing to change for the evening meal. Her mother had insisted she bring a dress, much to her dismay, and had extracted Bryallyn's promise to wear the garment for the evening meals. So, now in the solitude of the room, she began to prepare for a bath to wash the dirt and grime of the road from her body and prepare for what undoubtedly would be a long meal. _You didn't have to come_, she reminded herself. _You could have remained at Highever ..._

She had just released her hair from the braid she had worn while traveling when she heard a knock at her door. Frowning, she crossed to open the barrier. "Nathaniel!" she breathed, opening the door to allow him entrance. She saw him hesitate for just a moment before stepping inside the room.

"Welcome to Vigil's Keep," he told her, lifting her hand to brush her knuckles with a kiss.

Bryallyn smiled up at him. It had only been about six months since they had last seen each other, but at moments like this, it seemed as if it had been forever. "Thank you," she replied quietly.

Nathaniel glanced around the room, noticed the filled tub and told her, "I apologize. I did not realize you were about to bathe. We can talk later perhaps?"

Bryallyn nodded. "I would like that. And, Nathaniel?" She watched him pause at the door and turn to face her. "It is good to see you again."

Nathaniel smiled. "I will see you at dinner," he said before giving her a slight bow and leaving the room.

After closing her door, she quickly moved to bathe and wash her hair before dressing for the evening. Once she was clothed, she stepped over near the window to allow the breeze filter through to assist with drying her hair before pulling it back into a loose braid which she folded under and tied back around it at the base of her neck. Even folded thus, it still reached the middle of her back.

It was during dinner, while her father and Rendon Howe were talking at one end of the table, the women at the other end that Bryallyn's attention was caught by Nathaniel. Seating arrangements were such that he sat beside her, Thomas directly across, and Delilah across from Nathaniel. Bryallyn and Delilah had been teasing Nathaniel mercilessly, as Thomas had no apparent interest in their discussion, and Bryallyn had been a bit surprised that Nathaniel was taking it so well, though she suspected that, given his sister's teasing nature, he was used to it. After the most recent round of giggling had wound down, Nathaniel glanced towards Bryallyn and asked, "I was wondering perhaps if you might like to go hunting during your stay at Amaranthine? We have some excellent forests around these parts."

Bryallyn looked over at Delilah, lifting a brow in question. When her friend looked away from her, however, Bryallyn frowned. Opening her mouth to respond, she was cut off for a moment by her friend's father who broke in and suggested, "Why not make a day of it and take Thomas with you as well? I'm sure he would enjoy it, wouldn't you boy?"

Bryallyn swallowed as she watched the younger Howe son nod and reply with a bit of a slur, "Yessss, Father." It appeared that the rumors of Thomas' drinking were well founded.

Glancing at Delilah again. Bryallyn asked, "Del, will you come as well?" When she saw that the girl was about to refuse, Bryallyn shot a pleading look to Nathaniel.

"Come with us, Del," he encouraged immediately. "Bring your lute and we will make time to let you play for us."

With a heavy sigh, Delilah reluctantly agreed, murmuring, "I suppose it might be fun."

Bryallyn shot Nathaniel a grin before turning to look at her father with a pleading look. She saw the Teyrn struggle to maintain his composure, but the sparkle in his eyes gave him away. With a smile of thanks, Bryallyn set about eating the remainder of her meal content in the knowledge that she would be spending the next day with her friends out exploring the forests of the arling instead of closed up inside the keep.

* * *

Later that evening, Bryallyn was seated at the table near her window reading a book when she heard a soft knock at her door. Pulling her robe closer, for she had already changed for the evening, she called out, "Enter."

Nathaniel stepped into the room then, closing the door behind him. "I hope I am not intruding," he said quietly.

Smiling, Bryallyn rose to her feet, set the book upon the table and crossed the room. "Not at all," she replied. "I was just reading before I retired for the night. Did you need something?"

Nathaniel smiled and shook his head assuring her, "No, I just wanted to stop in and thank you."

Bryallyn frowned slightly and blinked. "Erm,... all right?" she returned hesitantly.

Nathaniel laughed softly. "For asking Delilah to come along on the hunt with us tomorrow," he clarified. "I have been trying to convince her to come out more with me since returning to Amaranthine, but she does not like to."

"Why?" Bryallyn asked as she slid her hands into the pockets of her robe.

"I think she is afraid," Nathaniel admitted softly. "Father has not allowed her to learn any weapon styles, including bow, and I think she is simply afraid to be out without a way to defend herself if necessary." He shrugged. "I have offered to teach her, but again, she is afraid that Mother and Father will find out."

Bryallyn shook her head in disgust, but said nothing. It was not her place to judge his parents, but it disgusted her that they would not at least teach Delilah how to defend herself. "Perhaps I can talk her into trying tomorrow?" she offered. She glanced up and saw the look of hopefulness that appeared in his eyes. She knew that Delilah and Nathaniel were close, and she found that she was glad she could help ease his mind in this regard.

Nathaniel nodded once before turning back to the door. "That would be appreciated," he replied. "But now I should let you rest since we are to be up and out early."

Bryallyn followed him to the door and told him quietly as he exited the room, "Good night, Nathaniel."

Nathaniel turned to give her a gentle smile. "Sleep well."


	6. The Hunt

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as set alerts and favs including: Shakespira, fergy13, roxfox1962, MelRedux, Eva Galana, Evalyne, Miltonia, Piceron and ProsePrincess._

_Thank you to my fabulous betas without whom this story would be a HUGE EPIC FAIL! __**MireliAmbar, VioletTheirin, Blightsworn**__ and __**Erynnar**__ are fantastic writers on their own account - please check out their stories as well! HUGE THANKS to __**Erynnar**__ for her help with a last minute rewrite in this and the next chapter to make it work so much better! MUAHS Sweet Thing!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ..._

_**A/N:**__ Music for this chapter: "The Demon God," from the Princess Mononoke soundtrack and "Closer to the Edge," by 30 Seconds to Mars._

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The sun still had not risen by the time Bryallyn finished donning her leather armor and heard a soft knock at her door. Shouldering her pack and her bow, she reached for her cloak before exiting the room to find Nathaniel in the hall. "Good morning," she murmured, smiling up at him while closing the door behind her. She glanced him over, admiring the studded leathers he wore, noting he had donned both daggers as well as his bow for this hunting expedition. In addition, he was sporting a dark green woolen cloak. Her smile continued as she followed him down the hall.

"Good morning," he returned. "Del and Thomas are both down eating breakfast if you'd like to eat something before we leave."

"That sounds fine." They chatted softly as they walked down to the dining hall, discussing nothing of import, but amusing each other nonetheless. When they arrived, Nathaniel brought her some food and drink as Bryallyn sat at the table beside Delilah. Thomas said nothing, but he did look up once, and Bryallyn noticed the red, bloodshot eyes and smelled the scent of alcohol already consumed that morning. Glancing quickly at Nathaniel, she saw the elder Howe shake his head in disgust before turning to eat from his own plate.

Within the hour, and just as the sun began to rise, their small party left the Vigil, turning south and east. Nathaniel led the way, with Bryallyn and Delilah in the middle and Thomas dragging along behind. The girls talked softly, mostly Delilah explaining to Bryallyn where they were headed. After a time, Bryallyn said softly, "Del, if you want, I'll help you learn how to use the bow." She knew that her friend's father had forbidden the girl to learn any sort of self defense or martial art.

"Bry, I - I don't think that would be a good idea," Delilah replied a bit nervously.

"No one will say anything, Del," Bryallyn insisted. She glanced ahead to Nathaniel who had slowed down to allow them to reach him. "I bet Nathaniel would even help you learn."

The man glanced over his shoulder at Bryallyn, the look on his face saying everything. "And Thomas ..." All three turned to look at the younger Howe who was currently taking a drink from a wine skin. When he dropped the skin back to his side, he glared at the three of them. "Why would I say anything?" he demanded. "I certainly don't want to be at the end of his arm when he finds out you blatantly disregarded his wishes." Bryallyn frowned up at Nathaniel who simply shrugged, before leading them off again.

A short time later, they established a small, temporary camp to serve as a base for their day's excursion. Though they did not plan to be away from the keep for more than the day, they knew it was always a good idea to have a camp prepared in case a situation arose and they needed the space, the fire or a warm meal.

Once they were settled, a small fire blazing away in a fire pit, Bryallyn approached Delilah and asked, "Would you like me to show you how to shoot now?"

Delilah hesitated. "Bry, I appreciate the thought, and the gesture, but I really think -"

Bryallyn sighed and reached out to take her friend by the shoulder. "Del, I will not force you to learn," she promised. "If you are uncomfortable with the idea, we won't do it. I just don't see why your father won't allow you to be prepared to defend yourself if necessary!"

Nathaniel approached the two women then, murmuring, "Thomas and I will go scout around, see what we might scare up." He frowned when he saw the look of consternation on Bryallyn's face and an almost frightened look on his sister's. "What is wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," Bryallyn replied, schooling her emotions. She had promised Delilah she would not force the issue, and she was going to keep that promise. She saw Nathaniel look directly at her, but she shook her head indicating she would not discuss it. With a shrug, he turned and left, assisting his brother to his feet as he passed by him.

"You should go with them," Delilah was saying. "You are here to hunt."

Bryallyn could not hide the snort that escaped as she said, "And leave you here, defenseless? No, Del, I don't think so."

"But Bry, you came to go hunting, not to babysit me!" Delilah protested. Then with a sigh of frustration, she grumbled, "I knew I shouldn't have come along."

Bryallyn turned to face her friend, a smile inching across her face. "Del, I came to be with friends." She gestured around them. "And here I am. Enough said. Now come on, I could use some tea, what about you?"

Nodding reluctantly, Delilah followed her friend over to the fire.

* * *

It was some time later, and the two young women were chatting away amicably while sitting by the fire, that Bryallyn began to sense trouble. Setting her drink aside, she rose to her feet, reaching for her bow and an arrow in the same movement. "Del," she murmured, pointing to a tree to her left, "get up there ... now."

Delilah had seen a similar look upon her father's face before: _do not argue with me at this moment, just do as you are told_. Setting aside her drink, she hurried over to where Bryallyn indicated. Bryallyn began searching around the camp, trying to determine the source of her unease. When her gaze drifted over to Delilah again, she saw the girl was having trouble getting herself high enough to get leverage to climb. Moving quickly, she set her bow aside and hooked her hands together as if she were giving her friend a leg-up onto a horse. "On three," she told Delilah, watching the girl put her foot on her hands. When she counted to three, she used all of her strength to hoist Delilah as high as she could and was satisfied when her friend finally managed to pull herself onto the branch above.

Bryallyn had just reached for her bow when she heard Delilah's startled gasp, and she turned ... to find a wild boar stumbling awkwardly into the camp. Bryallyn found her own breath catching at the sight: the creature was worked into a state of intense anger and pain, frothy foam at its mouth, its eyes rolling back in its head, a seemingly never ending stream of low grunts and gravely squeals. _Oh Maker!_ she thought, sensing the creature's mood. She reached into her pocket, retrieving the healing potion she had pulled from her pack earlier when showing Delilah and talking to her about why she carried them. She set aside her bow and quiver, and slowly, carefully stepped towards the animal, all the while speaking softly, encouragingly to the beast, as her mentor had taught her so many years before.

Bryallyn watched the creature turn towards her, hearing the sound of her voice, moving in her direction. Though still agitated, it seemed to calm somewhat, its breathing calming slightly, its vocalizations slowing in frequency and lowering in pitch. Bryallyn considered her options. She could see from a glance to the side of the animal that it had been injured, either accidentally or deliberately, and blood was flowing freely from a gash on its side. _You are a handsome beast,_ she thought, _though severely injured. I'm not sure if all of the potions I have with me would be enough to help you, though it might be a close thing. Will you let me assist you? Will you accept help from your natural enemy?_

"Bry?"

Bryallyn heard the fear in Delilah's voice. Taking just a moment, and raising her voice only slightly, she told her friend in a calm voice, "It's okay, Del. He won't hurt me if I am very careful. Remember, this is where my training is ..."

Bryallyn turned her focus back to the boar, murmuring further. She extended her right hand, palm up, allowing it to make its own decision. She saw the creature visibly shudder, listening to her voice, taking it to heart ... when an inordinately loud, crashing, thrashing noise from the side of the camp disrupted the connection between human and animal ... and then Thomas' voice shouted, "_There_ you are, you damnable beast!"

Bryallyn's focus was solely on the animal, and she was so close to communicating with it - _too_ close ...

* * *

Nathaniel heard Thomas' shout from nearby and turned to follow it. As he neared the camp, he finally spotted his brother shouting and stumbling across the open space; his sister up in a tree, crying out in alarm and Bryallyn ... "Maker's mercy, no!" he cried, leaping forward and drawing his bow at the same time.

Bryallyn began by backing away from the animal slowly, moving in the direction of the tree where Delilah had taken refuge. However, as Thomas began yelling again and the animal chose to attack to defend itself, she became the first target in its way ... _Maker help me, I'll never make it!_

Nathaniel hated to do it, but knew it was Bryallyn's only chance. Taking his shot from the far side of the camp, he watched it hit the beast in the side. The creature, now insane with rage, did not stop moving, nor even slow that much. Nathaniel felt his heart lurch as he watched Bryallyn take a direct hit from behind while running towards the tree: the animal charged, catching her leg with its tusks through her boot and into her lower leg, jerking it's head sharply and tossing her forward. Still running, Nathaniel reached for one of his daggers, tossed it until he could grasp the blade with his hand, then threw it as hard as he could towards the boar, catching the wild beast through its side, the sheer force of the throw knocking the animal over where it convulsed several times before ceasing all movement and sound.

Delilah dropped from the tree limb the moment she saw the wild pig go down. Immediately turning, she ran towards Thomas and started hitting at him. "You fool! You stupid drunken lout! What the Maker were you thinking?" she screamed at him.

Nathaniel dropped to his knees beside Bryallyn, turning her carefully over so that she was face up. "Bry!" he called, watching her eyes struggle to hold his gaze. She was already in shock apparently, most likely due to the pain and, he glanced at her leg, rapid blood loss. Nathaniel reached first for his cloak, yanking it off and using his other dagger to tear it into strips. Turning, he shouted, "Del! Find her pack - Bry carries healing potions in it ..."

Delilah shoved Thomas away from her and went in search of the pack. "She had it out earlier," she called back to him. "Check her hands or pocket - she had one when she was trying to get to that ... that creature!"

Nathaniel was leaning over Bryallyn, talking to her about anything that came to mind, frantically wrapping the wounds with strips from his cloak as he tried to stop the bleeding. As soon as he finished the latest one, he reached for her hands in search of the health potion. "Bry? Bry! Del says you had a potion. Do you have it still?" He pried open her fingers of her right hand and found it in her palm. _Good girl!_ he thought to himself. Taking the small vial, he opened it and lifted her head. "Bry?" he called softly, lifting her head so that he could pour the liquid into her mouth. "Come on, sweetheart, drink it down."

Delilah hurried over, kneeling by her friend's other side. She set the pack beside her and began rummaging through it. In addition to three more health potions, she found some bandages and handed them to her brother. Biting her lower lip, she glanced over at Nathaniel. "I should go back and get help, shouldn't I?"

Nathaniel spared her a brief look. "Go, and take Thomas with you." He held his sister's gaze for a brief moment. "Hurry!" he urged. "I won't be able to get her back much farther than the main road. Send someone to meet us there."

Delilah nodded and looked over to where Thomas was still stumbling to his feet. Sighing softly, she rose and went to assist him. "Come on, _brother_," she hissed. "We are going to get help, and if you are very fortunate, Father will forgive your transgression today ..."

Nathaniel continued working on Bryallyn's leg. Once he felt he had the bleeding covered, somewhat stemmed, he turned back to feed her another of the small health potions from her pack. "Bry, come on and drink up," he murmured, lifting her head again. He saw that she was still conscious, but doubted sincerely that she was aware of what he was saying. She began to struggle against the bitter taste of the potion, but he poured it into her mouth in small amounts.

Bryallyn began choking on the foul tasting liquid, but also could feel it trying to work its way through her body to the injured area. She felt little tremors beginning throughout her body and groaned. She felt Nathaniel lift her more, pulling her against him. "Hold on a moment," he told her. "Let the potion do its work."

Bryallyn's world was a haze of pain, but she heard his voice, the request, and tried to nod, ... then felt her world spinning as she did so. She thought she might have groaned again.

Nathaniel leaned down near her ear and murmured, "I'm going to set you down for just a moment, Bry. I'll be right back." So saying, he gently laid her upon the ground and crossed the camp to retrieve her cloak that she had left near the now dying fire. As he returned, he kicked dirt over the remains of the fire, knowing they would be leaving shortly. The last thing he wanted to worry about was a fire spreading from carelessness.

Bryallyn felt Nathaniel lifting her again moments later, pulling her against him until she was sitting upright. She felt him settle her cloak around her shoulders, hooking it at her throat. "Do you think you can stand yet? We need to start heading back towards the keep."

Bryallyn shuddered a bit harder, uncontrollably, unexpectedly. _What is going on?_ she asked herself. She felt something cool placed in her hand and looked down to see a third health potion. "How ... many are left?" she finally managed.

"After that, one," he replied as he closed up the pack and shouldered it. He moved slowly, carefully, to replace his blades at his waist and shoulder his bow as well.

Bryallyn handed the one in her hand back to him. "Keep it," she insisted. "We might need it later."

Nathaniel moved to check the bandages. When he turned back to face her again, his look was grim. "Drink," was all he said.

Bryallyn opened her mouth to protest again, only to have him take the vial, uncork it and dump the contents into her mouth in one fell swoop. Then, giving her a hard look, he ordered harshly, "Swallow it." Bryallyn was so startled by his maneuver that she couldn't help but follow his instructions. Moments later, she was frowning in distaste.

Stepping away from her for a moment, Nathaniel rose to his feet. Reaching down, he had her take one of his arms while the other moved to support her back as he lifted her to her feet. He kept his arm at her back until she was steady. "Can you stand on it?"

Bryallyn tried putting weight on her leg ... only to have Nate catch her as the limb buckled beneath her from the intense pain. "Give it a moment," she said, her voice sounding harsh with the sudden rush of pain. "The potions are helping, but not ... quite ... ready ..."

Nathaniel shook his head. Removing his bow and quiver, he told her, "Climb on," before bending over slightly so she could reach her arms around his neck.

"Nathaniel, I'm not so sure this is a good idea -"

"Get on!" he barked. He tried to be careful of her injury as he settled her legs around his waist, but he felt her cringe in pain. "Just think of me as a glorified horse," he joked a moment later as he started off.

They made slow progress, but that was to be expected. Nathaniel was hoping simply to get to the main road, the well-worn path that he hoped would soon be leading help in their direction as soon as Delilah made it to the keep. As they journeyed, Nathaniel tried to keep Bryallyn talking, or at the very least reacting to his comments. He would travel a short distance, then pause for a bit during which Bryallyn would insist on standing on her good leg while leaning against a tree. Reluctantly, Nathaniel would allow this because he knew that he needed to catch his breath and rest as well, or they would both need assistance. In the end, what had taken them originally about fifteen to twenty minutes to travel inland, now took them over an hour to do in reverse.

Nathaniel finally saw the road in front of them and paused one last time. They were on the edge of the forest, the sun high over head, and he did not want to take Bryallyn out in the direct sunlight of the day until he was sure that they had a better method of travel waiting for them. Glancing in the direction of the keep, he saw no one approaching as of yet, and realized that Delilah and Thomas would only have just recently made it back, assuming that his sister had been able to keep his brother moving.

"Nathaniel ...?

He turned to see Bryallyn slowly sinking to the ground while propped against a tree. Rushing to her side, he managed to catch her just before she fell. Seating himself first, he pulled her onto his lap. "Hang on, Bry," he told her as he lifted a hand to her forehead. She was pale, sweaty, and with a glance to her injured leg, he could see that the bleeding had started up again. He opened the pack she now carried and took out the last health potion. Using his teeth to uncork it, he lifted it to her lips and started feeding it to her slowly. "Drink, love," he murmured near her ear. As he poured the potion past her lips, he felt a panic beginning to settle upon him. _Why is she behaving like this? She should not be suffering from this type of reaction from mere puncture wounds!_

Bryallyn was finding it difficult to focus. _So tired ... want to sleep ..._

"Bry!"

She jerked, her eyes blinking open, her breath snagging in her lungs. Turning her head, she lifted her gaze to his. _Floating ... no worries ..._ Instinctively, convulsively, she swallowed as Nathaniel poured the liquid between her lips. "Tell ... parents ..."

Nathaniel shook her as gently as he could. "No!" he roared when she collapsed against him. "Bry, wake up! Open those beautiful eyes for me!" It was while he was struggling to get her to respond that Nathaniel heard the thundering sound of hoof beats approaching. Turning to look in the direction of the keep, he saw two large beasts, ones he did not recognize ... until he saw their riders. As quickly as he could, Nathaniel rose to his feet and lifted Bryallyn into his arms. "Your parents are here, Bry! Wake up!"


	7. Sickroom

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those who have set favs and alerts including: Shakespira, jenncgf, Eva Galana, Piceron, Miltonia, celtic-twinkie, ProsePrincess, Erynnar, roxfox1962, Harmakhis, kaggi, Drak Lys and Evalyne. Special thanks to MelRedux and jenncgf for their interest in this story and for keeping after me, trying to convince me to post more often (when I get some of the other stories wound up I will! I promise!). Thank you, my friends, for making this story so worthwhile! =)_

_Kudos to my ever patient and fabulous betas: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__ who inspire me to no end! MUAHs my friends! Also, HUGE thanks to Erynnar who assisted in a major rewrite for the end of the last chapter and into this one. Thanks Sweetie! You saved my butt yet again!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ..._

_**A/N:**__ Music for inspiration: "Hold on Tight" by ELO, "Closer to the Edge" by 30 Seconds to Mars, "Stayin' Alive" by the Bee Gees and "Return to Me" by October Project._

* * *

Nathaniel stumbled as he approached the riders, barely managing to keep his feet under him and noting as he did so the horses were shifting around, shying away from him, from the smell of Bryallyn's blood. He glanced up at the Teyrn of Highever. Carefully lifting Bryallyn to her father, he said, "She needs help immediately ... right leg ... wild boar ..."

Bryce took his daughter in his arms, pulling her up in front of him, holding her close with his right arm while his wife adjusted the girl's position so that her injured leg would not rub or flop around as he rode back to the keep as fast as the animal would take them. "Go!" Eleanor told him urgently when she was done. Without waiting to be told twice, Bryce spurred his horse into action.

Eleanor glanced down at Nathaniel after her husband's departure and offered him her arm while removing her foot from its stirrup so he had something to assist in mounting. "Mount up behind me," she told him firmly.

Nathaniel blinked up at her, stepping backwards a step for the moment. "Your Grace ...?"

Eleanor caught his worried gaze, the emotions running wild behind eyes as dark as clouds on a rainy day. As she watched, she noticed something else ... something she wondered if either he or Bryallyn had figured out yet ... "Nathaniel," she said in a voice that was slightly less controlling, "we must get back to the keep so you can be with my daughter, yes?" She almost laughed at the look that passed over his eyes then: shock, sudden realization, ... the consternation that she had figured him out so easily. Lowering her arm to him again, she watched as he finally took it, lifted his foot to the stirrup and hoisted himself behind her. The moment he seated himself, she turned the steed and raced off in the direction of Vigil's Keep.

* * *

Nathaniel led the teyrna into the keep, both of them moving at a fast clip passing servants left and right. As they hurried, Nathaniel had half a wonder as to where his father and mother might be throughout this fiasco, but the thought fled as they neared Bryallyn's room and entered to find Bryce Cousland lifting his daughter into his arms once more as a mage - Ceila Amreth, the resident healing mage at Vigil's Keep - began stripping the bedding down and off the bed. Nathaniel moved quickly, for he had worked with Ceila before, and assisted her so that she could begin working on her patient. The moment Bryce had lowered Bryallyn to the bed again, the mage was reaching towards the impromptu bandages that Nathaniel had applied out in the woods.

"Tell me what happened," she said to Nathaniel as he entered the room, her slightly accented voice a balm to his frayed nerves while she carefully began removing the bandages.

Nathaniel began to do just that as he pulled a dagger from its sheath and began slicing the blood-soaked strips of cloth from his friend's leg. As he did so, he made specific mention Bryallyn's atypical reactions as a result of the wounds. "Ceila, her reactions are so strange, so unlike what you would expect for a puncture wound," he told her.

Ceila handed him another set of bandages to temporarily wrap the wound in and he moved quickly to do so. "She may have other injuries," Ceila replied quietly. "You mentioned that the beast tossed her, yes?"

Nathaniel nodded. During this time, he focused on the healer and on Bryallyn's wounds rather than the teyrn and teyrna who were standing behind him. _Coward!_ he thought to himself at first, but then realized that if they thought as much of him, they certainly would not be allowing him to stay and tend their daughter.

Ceila reached out and placed her hands over Bryallyn's body, not quite touching the skin, but close enough so that the blue energy emanating from her hands could make contact with Bryallyn's body. "Ah," she murmured, her hands moving slowly from head to toe, "I see." She said nothing more for the moment, and when Nathaniel would have spoken, she gave him a hard look and shook her head before turning towards a bag she had set upon the nearby table. Sorting through some of her things, she lifted out a jar, a few vials of healing potions, a few more of what appeared to be lyrium potions, and some more bandages. Turning back to Nathaniel, she said, "I'm going to need hot water, and some strong arms."

Eleanor stepped forward then. "I will get the water," she announced, taking just a moment to squeeze Nathaniel's arm. "You stay and help," she told him quietly before turning to leave.

Nathaniel was distracted for just a moment by the teyrna's easy acceptance of his role here, and he spared a brief look at the teyrn. Bryce, he saw, stepped forward then, concern for his daughter in his eyes. Nathaniel noticed that the words that he and Ceila had exchanged had hit the older man hard, and for the briefest of moments, he had to wonder if the man would ask him to leave his daughter's side if he knew the entire story of what had happened. But, when their eyes caught, Bryce simply nodded for him to continue what he was doing.

Nathaniel turned his attention back to Bryallyn as he heard her moan softly, her body spasming slightly. Ceila stepped forward and generated a green energy this time, aiming for Bryallyn's mid-section. When she finished a short time later, the mage started to reach carefully for the buckles of her armor. "We need to get her out of this and make her comfortable," Ceila announced, "but we need to be careful. She had some broken ribs causing bleeding inside of her. The ribs have been mended now, but we need to be cautious as they are still knitting together."

_Internal bleeding? Was THAT why she reacted the way she did?_ he wondered. Nathaniel stepped to the head of the bed to gently lift Bryallyn so that he could begin unbuckling her cuirass. As he did so, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that her father moved to her other side to begin removing the bracers and gloves, shoulder pauldrons and then begin working on the buckles to the leather skirt.

Once the cuirass had been removed, Nathaniel felt Ceila move beside him again. "We need to wrap up her ribs," she told him while handing over a large rolled linen bandage. Turning towards Bryce, she asked, "Your Grace? Would you hold her upright while Nate bandages her mid-section please? The ribs are healing now, but they need to be held in place." Bryce nodded and moved into a position where Bryallyn could lean back against his shoulder while Nathaniel, under Ceila's expert guidance, began setting the bandage.

When Bryallyn was once more lying flat on the bed, Nathaniel then moved to remove her boots; first the one from her uninjured leg, and then to slice the remnants from her right leg. At this point, Ceila returned to his side again, assisting him by holding the now bloodied second set of bandages as he removed what he could of the damaged boot. He took a moment to glance at the mage's face. "I am surprised there is not more blood," he said quietly. He knew without saying it aloud that there would be bits of leather, dirt, other debris in the wound as he had not taken the time to clean it properly at their camp.

Reading his concerns on his face, Ceila smiled at him. "Much of her bleeding is internal. Trust me, Nate, you did the right thing," she said using the family nickname for him. "Each of those health potions you gave her, spaced out as you did, helped her stay alive. Each one did just enough - slowing the blood flow, healing just enough of the wound - so she could get back here to the keep where I can help her now."

Eleanor entered the room just then, carrying a large pot filled with steaming water. "Where would you like this?" she asked.

Ceila pointed to the table. "There please, your Grace, we will need it momentarily."

Eleanor returned to her husband's side as they moved away from the bed. Her eyes focused on her daughter, now lying only in her small clothes and bandages.

Ceila pulled a clean cloth from the pile on the table while testing the temperature of the water with her other hand. Soaking the cloth through, she wrung it out and handed it to Nathaniel. "Clean the wound out ... all of it. She will likely start thrashing about without some assistance," the mage warned while giving the parents a look, "so I want to cast a sleep spell upon her first. Once we irrigate her wounds, they will bleed more, but we want that. The more it bleeds at this point, the cleaner the wounds will be to heal." As she explained this for the benefit of Bryce and Eleanor, Ceila began casting the sleep spell upon Bryallyn.

Eleanor stepped forward then to hold her daughter's hand on one side, while Bryce moved to the other side for the same purpose. "Go ahead, Nathaniel," the teyrna told him after a moment. "Do what needs to be done."

Nathaniel swallowed hard. _Oh Maker, please don't let me hurt her!_ he prayed as he took Bryallyn's leg in his hands and turned it so that he could cleanse the wound. As he did so, Ceila removed the bandages, allowing them to lie beneath the leg to protect the bedding, but reaching for clean ones as well as the jar of salve she had retrieved from her bag earlier.

Nathaniel tried to hurry with his task, but he was thorough. He knew that every bit of foreign matter had to be removed from the wounds or Bryallyn could get an infection and ultimately die. His hands began to shake with the sheer amount of force he expended in order to keep himself focused on the task.

Though Bryallyn was not moving, Bryce began murmuring near his daughter's ear, his voice calm, collected and soothing. "You are doing fine, Pup. Let them clean the wound, we don't want infection setting in." Eleanor soon added from her side, "I'm so proud of you, my darling! You are such a fighter!"

Nathaniel handed the now dirtied cloth over to Ceila who rinsed it and handed it back again. _Maker give me strength!_ he prayed as he continued.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, and several changed cloths, Ceila pronounced that the wound was clean. She then handed Nathaniel the jar of salve and gave him instructions on how she wanted it applied. Turning towards Bryce, she handed him a health potion, a larger dose than the ones Bryallyn had taken before, and stepped beside him, reaching down to touch Bryallyn's forehead with a golden yellow glow. "I am removing the sleep spell so that, when we are finished, she will be able to heal in a natural sleep. This will be easier for us to monitor her progress as well," she explained. "When I am ready, I will tell you to give her the potion, your Grace." He nodded and shifted it so he could feed it to his daughter when the time came.

Reaching for the last set of bandages, Ceila changed them out for the dirtied ones below Bryallyn's leg and then moved beside Nathaniel. "When I tell you to," she told the young man, "I want you to set her leg onto the bandages. I am going to use a healing spell at the same time she takes the healing potion." When he glanced up at her in question, she explained, "I have found that this will quicken the healing process just a bit. As I do that, I will need you to start tying off the bandage to her leg, making sure it is secure but not too tight. Understood?"

Nathaniel nodded solemnly. "Understood," he told her.

Ceila positioned herself, a green energy suddenly building up at her fingertips. Nathaniel recognized the healing magic as he had been a recipient of it in past. "Your Grace," the mage murmured, "give it to her now, please ... all of it at once."

Bryce lifted his daughter, his wife shifting her position to support Bryallyn's back in order to hold her upright so she would not choke on the liquid. Opening the flask, he poured the contents in, murmuring into her ear, "Drink it down, Pup, all of it. That's my fierce girl!"

Nathaniel lowered Bryallyn's leg to the bed, moving to strap off the bandage as quickly as he could. As he did, he could see the magical energy flowing towards the wound, the flesh on Bryallyn's leg beginning to knit together and almost caught himself more fascinated by that than in focusing his attention where it was needed, but he caught himself in time. Once the bandage was in place, Nathaniel stepped back out of the way and simply observed.

Ceila Amreth was still a woman of mystery to Nathaniel. She had been brought into the family household while very young, when he had still been a child, though she did not look as old as his parents. He supposed she was about fifteen years his senior, and he certainly could not fault her talent. Aside from the various injuries a child might experience in his youth, Nathaniel had seen her heal others, and when she had asked for his assistance once, and requested it further afterwards, he had found that she had taken an interest in his calm, cool, collected demeanor during a crisis.

Now, he noticed that the woman's spell was beginning to trail off, and he could visibly see the exhaustion on her features. Stepping forward, he offered her his arm and noted her smile as she took it, directing him to lead her to the chair near the table with her supplies. "I will be fine in a moment," she assured him, noticing his concern.

Nathaniel smiled tolerantly, but continued to assist her. "Thank you, Ceila," he murmured.

He was not surprised when she patted his hand. "We can't be letting the guests die off, now can we?" she teased.

Nathaniel snorted softly at her humor, as off-beat as it was, before turning back towards the Couslands. He found Bryce straightening, stretching his back which Nathaniel was sure had gone stiff being bent over his daughter for so long. And the teyrna ... Nathaniel hurried around the bed to her side, assisting her to her feet as Bryce held Bryallyn. "Your Grace, allow me, please," he told her, taking the seat where Eleanor had been, moving into position so that Bryallyn could lean back against him.

Eleanor swallowed an amused smile as she glanced over at her husband. "Will she be all right?" she asked the mage.

Ceila nodded. "She will be fine in a few days," she explained. "The most important thing now that the wounds are cleaned out and bandaged, as are her ribs. What remains is for her to recover from the internal blood loss which her body will take care of on its own. Master Nathaniel here," she gestured towards the young man, "made all of the right decisions in order to get her back here for me to treat."

Eleanor stepped forward then and leaned over to kiss the top of Nathaniel's head. "Thank you," she told him with an affectionate squeeze to his shoulder as well. Bryce noticed the younger man blushing at his wife's attentions, and pulled Eleanor to his side. "When do you think she might wake?" he asked Ceila.

"That is difficult to say. I would think it would not be before morning, though," she added. Then with a gentle smile, she suggested, "I would advise you both to get some rest. Aside from the assistance you provided, the stress of seeing your daughter so severely injured surely must have worn you out."

Eleanor nodded, leaning into her husband's embrace as he slid an arm around her shoulders. "That sounds like a good idea," she murmured, suddenly overcome with exhaustion.

Nathaniel watched the Couslands depart, while adjusting his position just slightly behind Bryallyn. "Ceila?" he asked softly after they were gone, "were you telling them the truth?"

Ceila gave him a sidelong glance. "Which? The part about your actions, or the part about her chances?"

"Both."

The mage smiled at him, a sparkle in her eyes. "Yes," she replied before managing to get to her feet. She set another health potion on the small table beside the bed, well within Nathaniel's reach. "I am going to my chambers to rest for a while as well," she told him. "Teyrn Cousland, I believe, was going to set a guard outside the door, if you should need anything." Gesturing to the potion, she added, "That is only if she should begin to get feverish, chills, sweat ... you remember when Delilah had the ague so bad?" She saw him nod. "Do not give it to her unless she meets those same conditions. Otherwise, I will have some willow bark tea sent up for you to feed her periodically to try to keep her temperature manageable."

"Understood," he replied quietly.

With a final smile, the woman gathered her things, replacing them in her bag, and left the room.

Nathaniel shifted slightly, easing himself into a more comfortable position against the bed frame. With Bryallyn lying against him like this, he didn't know if he could get into a position where he could sleep, but when he thought about it he realized that he didn't really care. "You, my friend, have given us all quite a scare," he murmured as he felt the adrenaline that had been keeping him going for most of the past few hours beginning to fade away. _Okay, so maybe I will be able to sleep_..., he told himself as he felt the first stirrings of exhaustion catch up with him. "Let's see what we can do now to get you focused on healing, hmm?" As he began to drift off, Nathaniel slid his arms carefully around Bryallyn's mid-section, mindful of her ribs, his hands lacing atop the covers and above her wrapped ribs in an effort to keep her from falling as much as keep a feel for any change in her condition.


	8. Recovery

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those who set alerts and favs including: Shakespira, Sati James, Liso66, jenncgf, Evalyne, roxfox1962, ProsePrincess, bioncafemme, Piceron, Erynnar, rotcboy522, Falwynn, Sisimka, Kayce-chan and MireliAmbar._

_Huge thanks to my fantabulous betas: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__ who are all awesome authors in their own right! Please check out their works! They are most worth it._

_Bioware owns all but what I make up ..._

_**A/N:**__ Musical inspiration from: "Eagleheart" by Stratovarious, "Place in This World" by Michael W. Smith, "Don't Cry," by Asia, and "Heart of the Sword" by T.M. Revolution_

_

* * *

_

Delilah was nearly silent as she slid into the room, having sweet talked the Highever guard into allowing her to visit since her brother was inside. Of course, it helped that she was bringing him something to eat for the evening meal.

The lighting was dim inside the room, save for the fire in the hearth. Outside the light of the day had given way to the usual darkness of night. Carefully, Delilah crossed the room to place the food at the table. She knew Nathaniel had heard her; he always did. She had never even tried to be stealthy around him. Turning, she walked to the bedside and glanced down with concern at her friend, sleeping heavily within her brother's arms. Reaching a hand out, she brushed some of Bryallyn's loose hair back from her face. Lifting her gaze slightly, she caught her brother staring up at her. She gave him a small smile. "I brought you some food, Nate," she told him softly. "If you like, I can sit with her while you eat."

Nathaniel actually agreed to this, shifting his body to the side so that his sister could take his place sitting behind Bryallyn. Once he was sure that Delilah was in a comfortable position, he rose. The first thing he did was remove his leathers, something he had not had time to do earlier, and now he felt his body sigh in relief as the armor was finally removed and he remained in the simple tunic and breeches he wore beneath. He turned and saw his sister grin at him. He returned the smile.

Next, he moved towards the table, sitting at one of the chairs there and eating the meal in front of him. As he did, he lifted his gaze to the bed where he watched his sister speak softly to Bryallyn, gently combing their injured friend's hair with her fingers. The two girls weren't the greatest of friends, but Nathaniel knew they respected each other, and their friendship seemed to grow more each time they were together. He allowed his thoughts to drift back to that morning as they had been walking to the woods. _Bry offered to teach Del to shoot ... she didn't like the the idea of Del not being able to defend herself ..._ Nathaniel had to wonder why his sister had refused, though it didn't take too much to understand the source of her concern: Rendon Howe. Though he had spent the past eight years or so with Arl Bryland at South Reach, he remembered a time right before his departure when Delilah had followed him out begging him to show her how to use his bow. Rendon had been at the archery field and had firmly, if harshly, denied his daughter the opportunity. "You are female," he had declared in a loud booming voice not simply for her benefit, but for any of his men who might wish to go against his decision, "and as such you will prepare yourself for service and obeisance to your husband, not in wielding weapons meant for a man."

Frowning at the memories and feeling a rising flood of irritation, for he had seen all too clearly this afternoon how close his sister could have come to losing her life if not for the quick thinking of a female warrior, Nathaniel began to center his thoughts on what had caused the situation in the first place. Or, rather, who: Thomas. Nathaniel had taken time to explain to his brother the purpose of their venture: to locate prey so that they could hunt together. He now realized that his brother had either purposefully disregarded his words, or in his (increasingly perpetual) drunken state had forgotten. Nathaniel now turned his attention towards his sister and asked, "How was dinner tonight, Del?"

Delilah glanced up at him. "What do you mean?"

"Mother, more specifically Father ... around the teyrn and teyrna ... was there ... trouble?"

Delilah breathed, "Ahh," as she finally realized what he was asking. "Well, it was a little tense at first, but mostly because Father was still angry with Thomas."

Nathaniel hissed beneath his breath. "I assume Father knows the 'accident' was Thomas' fault?"

Delilah nodded. "Yes. Though, the teyrn would not openly accuse him, simply blamed it on misfortunes of hunting." Their eyes met and held. "Thomas did not come to dinner this evening."

Nathaniel sighed. _Not surprising._ "Because he was humiliated or because he'd drunk himself into a stupor?"

Delilah shook her head. "I did not ask, Nathaniel. It's often better not to know." She saw him nod. "On a side note, however, the teyrna did ask me to bring you the food, concerned that you have a chance to eat, and to tell you again how grateful they are for your quick thinking and reactions that helped save Bry."

Nathaniel smiled at her in return. "You were pretty fast too, little sister. I was surprised that the teyrn and teyrna met us on the road as quickly as they did."

Delilah actually chuckled at this. "Yes, well, let's just say that by the time we reached the keep I'd blistered Thomas' ears pretty bad. I'm not sure which bothered him more: that or his subsequent discussion with Father."

Nathaniel took a last bite of food and sat back in his chair. After another moment spent simply sitting easily, allowing his body to relax for the first time all day, Nathaniel rose and returned to the bed. "Thanks, Del," he told her as he traded positions with her. He smiled as she shifted a pillow behind him and made sure he was comfortable. Before she stepped back, he reached out and squeezed her arm. "Thank you," he repeated, glancing up into her eyes. "I know I don't tell you -"

Delilah smiled, placing a hand over his mouth. "Don't, brother," she told him. With a wink, she added, "I know you and Father increasingly do not see eye to eye, and for that I am sorry. But I will never be sorry that you have turned out to be a decent person, looking out for people like me. This is just one small way I can thank you." She glanced down at Bryallyn. "And her," she added. "Ceila says she will be all right, yes?"

Nathaniel nodded. "Yes. She just needs to recover from the blood she lost."

With a nod, Delilah retrieved the tray from the table and turned towards the door. "I will bring you breakfast in the morning if you like?" She saw him smile first, then nod. "Good. Can't have you getting sick too, you know!"

Nathaniel found himself chuckling as his sister departed. He spared a glance down at the young woman in his arms and allowed his thoughts to drift ...

* * *

_The sky was dark, but it was not night, nor was there a storm. There was, however, noise ... danger ... something headed in her direction. She glanced around the unfamiliar surroundings, bushes, trees, boulders all blended together. "Hello?" she called as she slowly wandered in what seemed to be circles. "Is anyone here?"_

_The bushes to the left began to rustle, and Bryallyn found herself reaching for her bow. But where her weapon should have been she found only her backpack. Before she could do more than wonder at this, she saw the creature break through the shrubs ..._

_A wolf ... and a large, dark one at that ... but, not a wolf at the same time. Frowning, she tried to communicate with it as her mentor had taught her. She was more than disconcerted that the animal did not respond to her. With an angry menacing growl, the beast leapt forward landing directly in front of her path. Bryallyn found herself struggling to keep calm. Her heart was racing; she could feel sweat trickling down the back of her neck, her temples; tremors shaking her now frozen limbs ..._

Bryallyn's eyes shot open as she gasped in for air, feeling almost as if she could not pull enough into her lungs. She felt something holding her back, keeping her from moving, and as she fought against it, she felt the bands tightening around her.

"Bry, stop it!" Nathaniel growled, keeping his arms solid around her. For the past several minutes, she had been fighting him almost violently. It had taken him a moment to wake up and react, but he'd managed to get a guard's attention and sent him to fetch Ceila. "Bryallyn!" he called again.

Bryallyn finally heard the voice breaking through the remaining fog of her dream, pulling her back to the present. It took several moments longer, but she finally placed the voice. "Nathaniel?" she croaked. Blinking, she glanced around the dark room, realized she was in bed ... and Nathaniel had his arms around her ...

"It's all right, Bry," he told her as he loosened his hold and began touching her forehead, her back, her neck ... the places Ceila had taught him long ago to check for fever. "You are in your room at Vigil's Keep."

_Vigil's Keep?_ Frowning, she started to turn to face him ... until the movement of her leg sent a shot of pain through her lower right leg so intense that she couldn't hold a cry back.

"Easy," he told her softly. He shifted his position, moving so that she could lean back against the pillows. He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his. "Better now?" he asked. He watched her nod. "Good."

Bryallyn looked up at him as her memories began returning ... "How ... how bad is it?" she whispered.

Nathaniel reached out to brush some of the loose hair away from her face. "I will not lie to you - it was bad. Plus you had broken ribs as well. What do you remember?"

Bryallyn sighed. "I remember ... being so sleepy ..."

Nathaniel reached out to touch Bryallyn's forehead again, her neck, her shoulder. He was much more satisfied with what he felt now. "You had internal bleeding by then," he explained, "though I did not know it at the time. Your parents arrived a few moments later and brought us back here. Do you remember anything after that?"

Bryallyn took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she thought. "Nothing very ... clear," she finally admitted. "I remember pain ..." She frowned. "I do not remember anything very specific ..."

Nathaniel took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. "That is not a surprise," he told her. He was about to expand further when he heard the door behind him opening. Turning slightly, he saw Ceila slipping into the room and crossing to the bed. "Bry, this is our healing mage, Ceila Amreth. She is the one responsible for fixing up your leg."

Bryallyn glanced up at the woman, offering a slight smile. "Thank you," she murmured as she watched the woman begin examining her leg and then the bandage around her mid-section.

Ceila smiled at the young woman. "You are very fortunate to have had young Nathaniel with you," she explained as she checked Bryallyn's leg before feeling her forehead, her neck, her back ... the same places Nathaniel had been checking moments before. "It was his quick thinking that saved you."

Bryallyn nodded slowly, wincing as the woman touched the bandaged leg just before feeling the warmth of healing magic upon her wounds. Glancing up at Nathaniel, she saw he had blushed at the woman's praise, but remained at her side nonetheless. Bryallyn squeezed his hand gently with what strength she could spare. "Then I will thank you both for your attentions," she announced as the mage pulled back, nodding in satisfaction.

Ceila smiled at her and nodded. "You would do well to rest more, young lady, and remain off of your leg for a few days." When she saw Bryallyn open her mouth to protest, Ceila raised a hand for silence and said, "I understand you are to leave in a few days, and I have already spoken with Teyrn Cousland and Arl Howe in this regard. There will be alternative arrangements for you on your return home. I would advise you refrain from riding or any other strenuous activity for at least the next four to six weeks. Have you a healing mage at your keep?"

Bryallyn nodded. "Yes, we do. And we also have Nan." At the woman's puzzled expression, Bryallyn actually laughed. "She used to be my nanny before becoming our cook. She is well versed in medicines and caring for us when we were young and would get injured."

Ceila smiled. "Ah, I see. I will examine you again before you leave then, and we shall see how you are doing. If further treatment is necessary at that point, I will write instructions for your mage and Nan to follow. Yes?"

Bryallyn nodded. "Thank you, Ceila."

After a few further instructions, Ceila gathered her things and rose to leave. "Master Nathaniel, I would suggest you get some restful sleep as well before morning. Bryallyn will be fine for the rest of the night on her own."

Nathaniel, still facing Bryallyn grinned at her. "I will take that under advisement, Ceila. Thank you," he returned, hearing the woman chuckle on her way out the door.

Once the door had been closed, Nathaniel felt Bryallyn squeeze his hand again. "Thank you," he heard her whisper. Smiling, he squeezed her hand back gently. "I can't go losing my best friend because of my brother's drunken stupidity, now can I?"

Bryallyn smiled tiredly, feeling herself drifting off as the healing magic eased the pain of her leg and worked on the injury there. Blinking drowsily, she murmured, "Go get some rest ... you've done enough for me today ..."

Nathaniel watched Bryallyn drift off to sleep once more before releasing her hand and rising to his feet. Despite what both she and Ceila had told him he crossed over to one of the more comfortable chairs in the room, found a blanket and settled in for the remainder of the night which, with a quick glance out of the window, he knew would not be for much more than another few hours.


	9. Growing

_Thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as set favs and alerts including: bioncafemme, Shakespira, Miltonia, Eva Galana, ProsePrincess, MireliAmbar, Menais, Erynnar, Evalyne and Piceron._

_Thanks as always to my friends and wonderful betas: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar **__and __**VioletTheirin**__ without whom I would not be able to do this! Thank you, thank you, thank you!_

_ Bioware owns all but what I made up ..._

_**A/N:**__ music for inspiration this chapter: "Heartbreaker" by Pat Benetar, "Don't Forget Me When I'm Gone" by Glass Tiger, and "Real Gone" by Cheryl Crow and from the __Cars__ OST._

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_**18 August, Dragon 9:25**_

_Bryallyn,_

_Given your condition upon your departure from Amaranthine some months ago, we wished to write expressing our thankfulness at hearing that you are faring much better these days. I do not think we shall ever forget seeing you lying upon that wagon cart (though, I must admit, that Del and I both had grins upon our faces - carefully hidden of course - when you started arguing with your father! I don't think I have ever seen anyone turn quite that shade of ... red? Wherever you pulled your knowledge of curses, my friend, I hope he never found out or they might find themselves in need of a new position!). At any rate, we were both relieved to hear that not only did you and your family return safely to Highever, but that you have since completely recovered. For what it is worth, Thomas still hides behind the bottle, though I suspect he will be more careful from here on out._

_Additionally, Delilah asked that I inform you (as I am sure you well know by now, but little sisters can be so ... what is the word? Insistent? (annoying is more like!)) that we will all be in attendance upon our visit to Highever later this month. I expect to see you well, my friend, and quite recovered so that, if not a hunt, we may at least compete upon the archery lists once more. No sense in our skills going to waste, yes?_

_Yours in friendship,_

_Nathaniel & Delilah Howe_

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The target was hanging in place on the oversized tree stump at the far end of the field, an arrow already present in the center. Nocking her arrow, Bryallyn placed her index finger above and her second and third fingers below the missile before curling her fingers and lightly tugging the bowstring. As she lifted the bow above her, settling it into position at the height of her shoulders, Bryallyn felt a trickle of sweat trail it's way down the back of her neck. She breathed slowly, evenly, focusing her aim, adjusting for the wind. She ignored the sounds around her, of which there were many, including Fergus who was doing his level best to make her miss by diverting her focus through loud whistles and cheers. Drawing the bowstring as far back as she could, her hand coming to pause her ear, she loosed her shot ...

Bryallyn held her breath as the arrow took flight ... and shattered the missile already embedded in the center of the target. Turning her gaze, she asked softly, "Have I proved myself yet, Mother?"

Eleanor Cousland glanced down at her daughter. Both were dressed in similar armor, armed with their best weapons. Occasionally, and with great fanfare, they would hold competitions against each other as they were the best shots in the area surrounding Highever. Sometimes they would hold the events outside the town walls where the townsfolk could come and watch. Other times, like this day, they would hold the event inside the castle grounds, a more private atmosphere for family, selected friends and the soldiers of Highever. Eleanor's serious features gently curved into one of pride and slight amusement now as she turned towards Bryallyn. "Yes, my darling," the teyrna told her, lifting a hand to her daughter's shoulder and pull her close for a hug, "I believe you have finally surpassed my skill level and proved yourself to be the best!"

Bryallyn blushed but accepted the praise. It had been a hard fought battle against her mother since she'd first begun teaching Bryallyn how to use the weapon at age six. As mother and daughter began to walk towards the small grouping, including Bryce, Fergus, Oriana and Oren, Eleanor handed the bow she was carrying to her daughter. "Here," she said softly, her gaze upon her husband as she spoke. "I think it is time I passed this along to you."

Bryallyn stopped walking, suddenly overcome. "Mo-mother," she gasped in shock, "this ... this is _Wicked Grace_!***** You can't give this to me!"

Eleanor joined her husband by his side, hugging him lightly before smiling over at her daughter. "I can, Bry, and I am."

"But ... but ... King Maric himself gave this to you!"

Bryce laughed aloud and told her, "That is true, pup, but I'm sure Maric would have approved of your mother's decision had he seen what an excellent archer you've become."

Bryallyn was at a loss at that moment. She lifted her gaze from the beautifully crafted weapon in her hands, complete with two emerald cabochons that matched the color of her mother's eyes, her eyes seeking Eleanor's. "Mama ...?" she whispered.

Smiling widely, Eleanor stepped back to her daughter's side and hugged her close. "Take it, Bry," she murmured, "and use it well and in good health. May it and the Maker always keep you safe and guide your hand."

Hugging her mother close, Bryallyn missed her brother leading his small family off towards the dining hall to find some of Nan's fabulous refreshments waiting them, his own smile of pride and satisfaction in his sister's performance clear for all to see. Bryce stepped closer then, placing his arms around his wife and daughter. "Pup," he told Bryallyn quietly, "we are very proud of you, of your abilities and how you have grown into the person you are becoming. You have earned the right to carry this."

Bryallyn nodded, wiping at the tears that were still rolling down her cheeks. Did they not understand just how important this was to her? Could they not see ... She allowed her parents to begin leading her indoors, keeping her thoughts to herself. She knew without a doubt that they were proud of her and realized that her mother's gesture was something akin to the passing of the family sword from one generation to the next. Fergus had gone through that years before, when Bryce had ceremonially passed both the Cousland blade and shield to his son and heir.

Moving closer to her daughter, Eleanor asked softly, "Are you all right, darling? I did not mean to upset you."

With a broad smile, Bryallyn glanced at her mother, a woman of about the same height as herself. "I hope you will always find reason to be proud of me, Mama," she whispered back.

Eleanor hugged the younger woman again and replied, "I have no doubt about that at all."

Bryce led them into the dining hall, where many of the Highever soldiers who had observed the competition had been invited to join in the impromptu festivities with the rest of the Cousland family. It was a tradition with the Teyrn of Highever, and not only encouraged a closeness between the men and the family whom they were charged to protect and defend, but it gave the soldiers opportunity to interact with Bryallyn and Fergus as well. Now, Bryallyn spoke with many of the men and women who served, showing off the prize her mother had presented, recounting the "battle" and relaxing among good company.

Some time later, while Bryallyn was entertaining to her four year old nephew, Oren, guards entered the room to announce, "Your Grace, the Arl of Amaranthine's entourage is arriving."

Bryallyn swallowed the shout of excitement at this announcement. She could hardly wait to see both Delilah and Nathaniel and show them the bow! Moving quickly, she slipped out of the room after the departing guards amid shouts of her father's laughter and her mother's admonitions of acting like a lady ringing in the air around her. When Bryallyn passed through the doors to the keep and began descending the steps, she found the carriage carrying the Arlessa and Delilah pulling to a stop. The Arl and his sons, Nathaniel and Thomas, were all dismounting their steeds. "Welcome to Highever, my lord!" she called to him as she approached.

Rendon glanced down his long and rather prominent nose at the girl, noting her insistence upon wearing armor as opposed to proper women's clothing. "Thank you, my dear," he returned politely enough as he dismounted and handed his reins off to a groom.

Bryallyn walked beyond the Arl, barely nodding at Thomas, opening the door to the carriage for the Arlessa and greeting Delilah with a smile, saying , "Hi, Del!" Though her enthusiasm was dampened by the presence of her mother, Delilah managed a, "Hello, Bry!" before Bryallyn stepped pulled back to allow the women space to exit the vehicle.

And then Bryallyn turned and saw Nathaniel. The minute their eyes caught and met, however, she saw the storminess in his eyes disappear and a smile appeared. She gave him a questioning look, but he shook his head slightly. "Welcome, my lord," she said a bit cheekily. Behind her she heard her parents beginning to greet their guests. Taking the moment to speak softly, she murmured, "Are you all right, Nathaniel?"

Nathaniel nodded, handing his reins to one of the stable lads. "Why would you think otherwise?" he asked, knowing his voice was a bit more short and terse than he would have liked. He followed her towards the doors of the keep where the rest of his family had been headed.

Bryallyn stopped walking, waited for him to follow suit, and once he did she said simply, "Because I know you better than that."

Nathaniel sighed dropping his head for a moment. She did indeed, he realized. Between visits and occasional letters back and forth, their friendship had strengthened very quickly. "Where can we talk ... without being overheard or interrupted?"

Bryallyn grinned knowingly. "Follow me," she said. Leading him indoors, they entered the great hall where the Arl and Arlessa and children were now seated, joining the Couslands in a light repast. Walking over to a bowl of fruit, Bryallyn grabbed two apples and an orange then turned and offered some to Nathaniel. Puzzled, Nathaniel grabbed an apple and watched as she set the bowl back on the table. Walking over by her parents, Bryallyn announced, "Mother, I'm going to show Nathaniel _Wicked Grace." _

There was a cry of protest from the Arlessa and a soft snort of laughter from Fergus, as Bryallyn realized how her words had sounded. Groaning, she turned and apologized. "I am so sorry, my lady! I was referring to my bow," she explained while lifting her mother's weapon to show the Arlessa. "My apologies for any misunderstanding!"

Bryallyn could hear her mother swallowing amusement as she turned her attention to soothing any remaining ruffled feathers. "Bryallyn, only established targets! No human ones!" she called after her daughter.

Sighing, Bryallyn set the extra pieces of fruit save one apple on the table and replied obediently, "Yes, Mother!" and took her mother's reaction as a sign that she had her approval. Thus gained, Bryallyn led Nathaniel through the halls of the keep and out the back to the archery practice yards.

Doing his best to sound serious, Nathaniel observed, "I do believe you did that on purpose!"

Bryallyn tried to hide her laughter, but the soft snort that escaped destroyed that idea. Giggling wholeheartedly now she led him down the path to the target area. During the short trip, she briefly explained how she had come to have the weapon earlier that afternoon. "Nicely done," Nathaniel told her with a smile. He had heard stories of the teyrna's expertise with the weapon, and he knew that Eleanor Cousland would not have given up such a treasured masterpiece as this if it had not truly been earned.

Bryallyn shook her head. "I can still hardly believe it," she told him, bewilderment still in her voice. Then, shaking her head, she handed both bow and her quiver over to him. "Go ahead and try it."

"Bry -"

"Go ahead," she urged, taking a step back. "I like watching you shoot. You make it look so ... effortless, seamless, so easily done." As she watched him follow her earlier movements, she realized just how true her statement was. She wondered if she would ever have the same level of skill that he had. While she stood back, she took a bite out of her apple, her eyes following every movement in the hopes of discerning his technique. As she watched, she noted how second nature the motions were to him.

Nathaniel fired off three successive shots, all meeting at the center of the bulls eye. With a warm smile that expressed his satisfaction with the weapon, he returned the bow to her. "Very nice," he agreed.

Bryallyn shouldered her bow, walking down towards the target to retrieve her arrows. "Can you tell me now?" she asked softly, knowing he would be behind her. On her previous visit to Amaranthine, they had walked down to the archery field to practice together, or talk, or both. She had suspected he would do the same at her home. Turning back to face him, she saw the storminess returning to his eyes.

"You are aware that Arl Bryland released me from my service so that I could return to Amaranthine and serve in my father's house, yes?" He saw her nod. "Well, my father has decided that I am to be sent off to the Free Marches now," he told her quietly. "For whatever reason, he thinks I need additional training." He was not about to tell her that the real reason dated back to their archery challenge in Denerim the previous year.

Bryallyn saw the look in his eyes and tried to discern what it was exactly that disturbed him. The fact that at twenty-one, Rendon Howe still thought his eldest needed training was surely an insult to the younger man's pride. "For what reason?" she asked softly, leading him back up the path. This time they both pulled out bows and quivers and began aiming for the target.

Nathaniel shook his head. "He's given me no idea - no explanation - no ... anything, really. I am simply expected to do as he commands without question." He nodded at Bryallyn to take the first shot.

Bryallyn loosed her flight, then lowered her bow. Nathaniel followed suit. The silence between them was an easy one, comfortable, companionable. "Do you know how long you will be gone?" she asked after a time.

Nathaniel shook his head. Taking aim, he loosed another missile. "I expect him to simply forget that I am over there, actually."

Bryallyn paused in the process of aiming as she heard the slight bitterness in his tone. Lowering her bow, she turned to him. "There is more to this than you are telling me, isn't there?"

Nathaniel turned to face her. "What gives you that idea?"

Bryallyn reached out to touch his arm. "Nathaniel, this is _me_ you are talking to." She watched him frown and turn away again. "Did you two fight?"

"No."

Bryallyn sighed heavily and stared at Nathaniel's back. The immediacy of his simple acerbic response was enough. Lifting her bow, she took aim again.

Nathaniel watched her shot sidle in beside his. With a chuckle of appreciation, he told her, "You are getting good."

"Not nearly as good as you."

Her words made him pause, lowering his weapon this time. He began to turn towards her, but found she had stepped up beside him. "I mean that, Nathaniel," she told him, holding his gaze. "The only reason I won in Denerim was because King Cailan sneezed. You are an exceptional marksman. I will miss our little competitions when you visit and can only hope that your father does not keep you away for any extreme length of time or my skills may deteriorate."

Nathaniel stared down at her for a long moment, reading the truth in her eyes. Then with a smile, he told her, "Well, I'm not gone yet, and I suspect we shall have at least a few days of competition ahead of us."

Bryallyn bit back a grin, but teased, "Of that you can be sure, my lord!" She jumped to the side just before his hand would have caught her wrist, yelping softly as she did so.

* * *

It was indeed two days later, another gathering of family and soldiers to watch, this time a mixture of Amaranthine and Highever men. It was the two of them: Bryallyn with _Wicked Grace_, and Nathaniel with his bow, a serviceable enough Antivan longbow that he called, for lack of any better name, _True Shot_.

The competition had been even between the two for most of the afternoon. They had alternated winning rounds, almost as if it had been planned, though those who knew the two archers realized that they were truly that matched in their skills. In sunshine or rain - and they had survived both that day - wind or no, they both persisted in their attempts to outdo the other. No one had been more surprised at the closeness of their match as Bryallyn. She knew she had improved, especially since she had been able to defeat her mother just days before, but she had not thought that she had achieved the same level of ability that Nathaniel had. After all, he was three years older than her, had more training and specialization. She'd spent as much time watching him, comparing styles as possible, yet she still felt inadequate. But their competition was proving her wrong.

And Nathaniel would be the first to tell her of it afterwards, that much he promised himself. No matter who won the actual competition, he was determined to spend time with her praising her on her improvement. It had been just over a year since they had last competed, and her progress in that short amount of time was remarkable, plus the fact that she had lost time to practice during her recovery from her injuries.

And then there was an opening ... Nathaniel's shot had missed only slightly outside of center. All Bryallyn had to do was hit dead center, and she would win. She nocked her arrow in place, tensed the bowstring slightly before lifting and aiming. Pulling back, Bryallyn prepared to fire the shot ...

And then quite suddenly, the draw string snapped, catching Bryallyn along the side of her face near her right eye. At the moment she felt the string beginning to snap, she closed her eyes, instinctively reacting to the proximity of the device to her face. _Wicked Grace_ dropped from her hand, her hands flying to cover the wounded area.

The first Nathaniel knew of the incident was from the gasp from the crowd. He had been in the process of checking his own bow, nocking an arrow and waiting for his turn when the accident occurred. Turning sharply, he managed to see Bryallyn's hands cover her face as she dropped to her knees. Moving instantly, he knelt beside her, quietly and gently urging her to remove her hands so he could see the damage done ...

Bryallyn heard Nathaniel's voice, felt his hands on her arms. Within moments, she could hear her mother's voice as well, and then the concerned shouts of her father, both on the far side of the field near the area where they had been watching. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to call out, "I will be all right in a moment," so that her parents would be at ease. She knew that despite her concerns about her daughter's safety, Eleanor would be sensible enough to keep the crowd from pouring into the area and interrupting. At Nathaniel's gentle insistence, she lowered her hands.

Nathaniel saw the angry red welt that had marked her skin, and he could not hold back a grimace. It had missed her eye by a very slim margin, due to her turning her face and lifting her hands as quickly as she had. Instead of doing damage that could have affected her vision, she had an angry red laceration running down from her temple to her chin just behind her eye, but in front of her ear. It might mark her face, perhaps even scar, but it would not permanently impair her vision.

Nathaniel grasped her chin then, turning her to face him, and snapped his fingers in front of her eyes to catch her attention. At the same time, he watched her eyes react, compared them to each other in their responses. Then, shifting his fingers so that he was holding three upright, he asked, "How many do you see?"

Bryallyn eyed his hand. "Three."

"Good. Now close your left eye. How many now?"

"One. Nathaniel, I'm -"

"Now?"

Bryallyn sighed. "Nathaniel?" Looking up at his face, she waited for him to look at her instead of into her eyes. Giving him a hard look when he did finally look at her, she said, "I'm fine. Just a close call. It's happened before."

Nathaniel finally relented, releasing her jaw from his grip, and offering her an arm to pull her up beside him. "No blurriness? No dizziness?"

Bryallyn gave him a patient smile and watched as he leaned over to lift her bow and hand it back to her. "I'm fine, I promise," she told him quietly. Finally, he smiled at her, and she knew he was back to himself. "Oh, and Nathaniel?"

He tilted his head at her. "Yes?"

"You won." She saw a startled look cross his features then, indicating that their competition had been the furthest thing from his mind. Smiling and lifting her now unstrung bow into his line of vision, she added with a cheeky grin, "Congratulations."

Nathaniel scowled at her, taking _Wicked Grace_ from her hand, and began shepherding her in the direction of her parents and others who were waiting to see how she was doing. While the others fussed over her, Nathaniel held back, the bow still hanging loosely in his hand. It had been a near miss for her, and she truly seemed to be more concerned about the results of their match. Shaking his head, he began following the group as they made their way towards the keep.

Remaining near the back of the group, Fergus approached Nathaniel before they entered the building. "I wanted to thank you," he said quietly.

Nathaniel frowned at Bryallyn's brother. "My lord?"

Fergus frowned at him. "Nate, stop it. You know you don't need to address me as such here." He watched as Nathaniel reluctantly nodded. "I was referring to your quick thinking, getting to Bry as you did, checking her eyes. She could have been severely injured..." Fergus shuddered, not completing the thought. "I just wanted you to know that we appreciate it."

Nathaniel nodded in acknowledgement. "It's something I was trained in, my l-" Nathaniel caught himself in time. "Fergus. When I was squired to Arl Bryland. They made sure we not only knew how to use the bow as a weapon, but knew the full extent of the damage that could be caused - both to enemies and ourselves, and how to treat them."

Fergus nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. "I am glad that you did. Now, let's head to the great hall. I'm sure Nan has prepared something of a feast, knowing her, and Bryallyn I'm sure will be desperate for someone to pull her away from overly concerned onlookers."

* * *

***** _direct reference from __**We Do What Must Be Done**__._


	10. In the Shadows

_Thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those setting alerts and favs including: Miltonia, Shakespira, MireliAmbar, jenncgf, celtic-twinkie, MelRedux, Erynnar, East Rift, LadyJessamyn and Piceron._

_Thank you to my bestest friends and most fabulous betas a woman could ask for: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, **__**MireliAmbar,**__ and__** VioletTheirin**__ without whom I would not be able to do this story justice._

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ... _

_**A/N:**__ for those interested, musical inspiration from: "Heat of the Moment" by Asia, "Got My Mind Set On You" by George Harrison, "Bring Me To Life" by Evanescence._

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Bryallyn kept to the shadows as she edged her way down the hall from her room, exiting the private apartments. When she reached the atrium that separated the living quarters from the main part of the keep, she stepped to her right, moving a step or two into the recess there and settled in to wait.

Nathaniel smiled softly as he saw her arrive. Without a sound, he moved to her side, leaned down and whispered near her ear, "It took you long enough!"

Bryallyn gasped before chuckling softly. "I should have known," she hissed. Taking his hand in hers, she began leading him, still in the shadows, towards the exit they had used earlier in the week that led to the back of the estate, through the woods and eventually down the cliffs of Highever and onto the coast. They traveled in silence until they neared the shoreline. Once arrived, Bryallyn led him over to a rocky outcrop where they seated themselves in the moonlight.

As they sat there, Bryallyn drew her knees to her chest, resting her head to her knees, turning her face into the light breeze. "I like coming down here when I need time alone ... or to think ...," she told him quietly.

Nathaniel watched her for a short time in silence as she stared out at the water, the moonlight shining down upon the waves and them. "It is nice," he agreed, "but I imagine your parents might not appreciate your ... timing?"

Bryallyn smiled at this. "They would have to know about it first," she murmured. She was pleased to see the white of his teeth flash in the darkness as he smiled indulgently.

"I suppose your father was ... happy with you today then?" she asked, referring back to their archery competition that he had won after her bowstring had snapped ... and just missed blinding her. Nathaniel sighed heavily. He reached a hand over to touch the side of her face where the bowstring had met and marred her flesh. "The swelling has gone down," he observed as he gently prodded the area.

Bryallyn smiled again, lifting her hand to cover his. "And you are not answering the question, my friend." She felt his fingers tighten for just a moment beneath her hand. "Nathaniel?"

He sighed again, adjusting his hand so that he could squeeze hers in reassurance. "Whether he was happy or not will not make him change his mind about sending me to the Marches," he replied quietly.

"No," she agreed. "But it might make things a bit easier for you until you leave."

Nathaniel turned, adjusting his position so he could pull her against him, between his legs, and he could hold her for a time. "I am going to miss having chances like this to talk with you," he told her, his arms wrapping lightly around her.

Bryallyn leaned back into the embrace and nodded against his chest. "I will too," she admitted. "You do realize, do you not, that with you gone, your father will have Thomas start courting me?" Again she felt his body tense up at her words. "I won't, though," she added quickly to ease his mind.

"What about your parents?" he challenged. "They might have something to say about that."

Bryallyn shifted to her knees and turned in his arms. "They will not force me to," she told him simply. "They have already assured me that if and/or when I meet the right person, I will know it and that it will me up to _me_, not them, to decide when that is. Until that time ..."

Nathaniel found himself staring into her eyes. _Maker, I hope you are right!_ he thought. "Might I write to you?" he asked suddenly. "While I am gone, that is."

Bryallyn noticed a slight blush rise into his cheeks. Her smile was soft, encouraging. "I would certainly hope you would continue to do so," she replied softly. "Your friendship means a lot to me, Nathaniel."

_Friendship._ Nathaniel nodded slightly, thinking on the word. _What would it take to make you think of me as more than just a friend I wonder?_

Rising to her feet, Bryallyn suddenly began removing her clothing down to her smallclothes. "Let's swim," she told him.

Nathaniel's gasp was soft, and he wasn't sure that she had heard it at all. Within moments, she was running into the waves and diving beneath the water. _Oh, Maker!_ he thought when he saw her rise above the wave tops again, her hair slicked back with the moonlight shining down and reflecting upon her. Hesitantly, he reached to remove his clothing, setting his weapons and such alongside hers.

"Come on, silly!" she teased. "It's a bit cold at first, but you will get used to it quick enough!"

Nathaniel approached the edge slowly. It wasn't that he was afraid of the water, or that he didn't know how to swim. _Do you know what you look like out there?_ he wondered, feeling the wash of the waves up against his feet, his shins and then higher as he waded into the water. _Am I the only one to have ever seen you like this? _

Bryallyn emerged from the water directly in front of him when he was up to his waist in the water. He could feel the push and pull of the tide, the gentle but persistent force behind the movement of the water ... and Bryallyn's broad smile as she rose and pushed the loose waves of hair back from her face. "Nathaniel? Are you all right?"

Nathaniel snapped himself from his thoughts as he brought his eyes to meet hers. _Oh Maker, why must you tease me like this? Surely by the time I return she will be taken, married off to someone and have family of her own ..._ He felt her take his hand and pull him gently further into the water. "I'm ... fine," he finally managed. He gave her a small smile.

Bryallyn grinned back. "Come on, I want to show you something," she told him before diving into the water and leading him off. For just the barest of moments, Nathaniel watched her swim, her arms slicing through the water, her feet making hardly any wake at all, before he dove in after her and soon had joined her by her side ...

* * *

They were finishing dressing after their mid night swim when Nathaniel began to sense trouble approaching. "Shadows ... now!" he hissed at her, pulling her to him and moving them both towards the cliff overhangs. Bryallyn grasped her weapons just as he wrapped his hand around her arm and pulled her into the darkness with him, his own shadow forms covering her as well for added protection. They stood in each other's arms silently against the face of the cliff; watching, listening, waiting. Bryallyn trusted him implicitly. If he had sensed something, she knew the threat was real.

It seemed as if they waited forever, but was really only a few minutes before figures began approaching on the beach. There were two, both male from all appearances, and they were clearly ignorant of their proximity to Nathaniel and Bryallyn. Nathaniel recognized them a half moment before their voices began drifting in their direction. Silently, he lifted his hand to Bryallyn's head, pressing it against his chest, partially hampering her vision but bringing her close enough for him to whisper almost soundlessly, "My father and brother."

" ... she's been given a latitude that is nearly impossible to get around," Thomas was grumbling.

"Then you must try harder, boy!" Rendon told him firmly. "It is imperative you convince her despite your foolish antics last year!"

Nathaniel was thankful he had covered Bryallyn's ear. He sincerely hoped that she was not able to hear this conversation.

"They have given her the final right to choose," Thomas said in disgust. "Each time I approach her, Father, she dismisses me ... like ... like some ... knife-eared servant!"

Rendon was shaking his head, Nathaniel saw, before he bit out, "Bryce and Ellie have given both their children too much freedom. They should have been subjected to strict discipline from the day they were born! It is up to you to convince her that you are her choice, and once you and she are wed, then we can bring her into line."

Nathaniel felt Bryallyn's slight frame stiffen against his and knew that she had heard. Pulling her closer, he offered what comfort and apology he could. But the next words sent chills through him.

"Why me, father? Wouldn't Nathaniel be a better choice? He already is friends with her, surely he'd be a better choice to win her hand."

Rendon's snort of derision echoed through the air around them. "That boy will amount to nothing due to his mother's influence upon him. He will have no inheritance. You are the future of the Howe lineage, my son, not Nathaniel. And it is time you start acting like it."

Nathaniel felt Bryallyn's arms slide around his waist and squeeze, indicating she had heard that as well. _What influence?_ he wondered, thinking of the woman who never seemed to want to be in the same room as him more than a moment or two.

They talked further, but the voices began to fade again as they walked further away down the shore line. Soon Nathaniel and Bryallyn were left alone in the shadows beneath the cliffs.

Bryallyn glanced up at Nathaniel, saw the look in his eyes and leaned into his shoulder so he could hear her say, "I am so sorry, Nathaniel!"

Nathaniel released her then, allowing his shadow forms to fade. "I have always known, I think, that my father disapproved of me," he told her quietly. "This simply confirms my suspicions." He glanced down at her and reached for her hand. "Come on, we need to get you back to the keep."

"And you?" she asked, tightening her hand around his, tugging lightly until he responded.

"Yes, and me too," he agreed as he squeezed her hand in return.

* * *

Bryallyn pulled him inside her room for a moment to keep his presence from being discovered. Setting her things aside immediately and pushing him to sit on the edge of the bed. After making sure he would stay, she went to the corner where she reached into her armoire, maneuvered her hand around for a moment, and pulled out a couple of glasses and a small bottle of brandy. She saw Nathaniel's surprise when she turned back. Giving him a grin, she explained, "Purely for medicinal purposes."

Nathaniel watched as she poured two small amounts and handed him one. "I am sure," he replied dryly. "But dare I ask why we are in need of ... 'medicinal purposes' right now?"

Bryallyn sat beside him, the bottle now placed at the nightstand near the head of her bed. "We've both had a ... shock, I suppose?" she offered before lifting her glass to his and touching them together lightly. "To friendship."

Nathaniel turned to stare at her for a long moment. "To friendship," he finally echoed, at which point they both downed the drink. "Make me a promise?" he asked after allowing the liquid to burn down the back of his throat, warming all the way to his stomach, though he began to doubt that anything would take away the cold taste of rejection.

Taking his glass with hers and setting them and the bottle aside, Bryallyn smiled and turned her gaze to his. "I was going to offer one," she told him softly.

Nathaniel felt the fiery liquid warming him from the inside outward, and smiled at her in return. "Stay away from Thomas while I am away," he asked. "He and father are clearly up to something and I do not want to see you hurt ..." He saw her eyes begin to glitter with emotion.

"I will not be marrying Thomas Howe, no matter what he or your father might say or do," she promised in a quiet but fierce voice.

He watched her rise, taking a deep breath before releasing it slowly. "Bry ..."

She turned to face him, her braid falling over her shoulder. He smiled gently, reaching a hand out to her cheek, brushing a loose strand away from face. "Be careful," he told her simply.

Bryallyn smiled and stepped closer to give him a hug. "I will. You be careful too, Nathaniel. Who else am I going to look to in order to chase away unwanted advances of nobles' brats?"

Nathaniel saw the smile, heard the humor in her tone, and felt his heart lurch inside his chest. _Who indeed_, he wondered silently as he hugged her back and wishing that he could tell her of his true feelings. _I can't expect her to wait,_ he reminded himself. _It would not be fair to her. _


	11. Goodbye to You

_Thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those who set favs and alerts including: Shakespira, Eva Galana, MelRedux, Miltonia, MireliAmbar, TG2000, ErynS., jenncgf, Piceron, Erynnar, dpMeggers and ProsePrincess._

_Thank you to my fabulous betas without whom I would not be able to tackle such a massive project as this story: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar, **__and __**VioletTheirin**__. Ladies, your constant support and encouragement is more than I ever could have imagined, and I am eternally grateful!_

_Bioware owns all but what I make up ..._

_**A/N:**__ musical inspiration from: _The Piano, Original Soundtrack_, "Sweet Talking Woman" by ELO, "You are the One" by A-ha, "I was Made for You" by Martin Page, "Don't Cry" by Asia._

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* * *

_

Nathaniel slowly scanned the room from right to left one last time to make sure he had collected all of his belongings. _It will not do to get halfway home and discover I left something important behind ... like a sleeping tunic or a pair of socks ..._ He chuckled softly to himself. _Only Adria would notice that I suppose, and only she would think it important enough to chide me about. _Finally satisfied that he had indeed stored everything away in his bag, he shouldered his pack and turned to leave the room.

Outside the door to his room he found Fergus waiting for him. Nathaniel nodded his head in greeting and was about to address his friend when Fergus frowned severely. "If you call me 'my lord' again, I will have to hurt you ..."

Nathaniel grinned. Lifting a brow in mock surprise, he challenged, "Now, would I do that to you, my ... _friend_?"

Fergus' frown eased as the two men began walking out of the living quarters, both chuckling in amusement. They discussed various different matters regarding Nathaniel's upcoming trip to the Free Marches until they neared the great hall when Fergus pulled Nathaniel aside. Instead of leading his friend into the hall, where the rest of the Howe family was gathering for their departure, Fergus instead turned down a short hall leading to a door. "Bry is up on the battlements," Fergus explained quietly as he pointed towards the door. "If you are wanting to tell her goodbye, I would suggest you go up to her. _She_ won't come down." When he saw Nathaniel about to protest, Fergus added, "I will find a way to stall your father."

Nathaniel winced. Yes, his father would be a problem. Rendon was a stickler for sticking to the schedule. Finally nodding, he turned towards the doorway and replied, "Thanks."

Nathaniel ducked through the door and hurried up the stairs, wandering out onto the battlements moments later only to be buffeted by the wind and mist of approaching storms. _This ought to make for a good trip home,_ he observed sarcastically. He began wandering the battlements, searching for Bryallyn, finally finding her on the north side, staring out towards the Waking Sea. She had pulled a heavy cloak around her, the hood covering her head. As she leaned against the wall, the wind swirled around, billowing out the garment almost like the flag atop the castle.

"I know you are there," her voice called out softly.

Nathaniel stepped forward then, watched as she turned to face him. He grew concerned however, when he saw that she had been crying. Moving to stand in front of her, he asked, "Is something wrong, Bry?"

Bryallyn emitted a short laugh, feeling her heart breaking at the question. It had occurred to her as she had crawled into bed the night before, just as her eyes began to close and her thoughts began to drift back over the events of the day that she cared for this man much more than the simple friendship they had toasted. In that in-between state from wakefulness to sleep, Bryallyn had felt her breathing catch and her heart race, leaping as if out of her chest as she realized the import of her discovery. She had remained awake all night, her mind speeding along through events from the moment that they had first met until the present, thinking on what he had said, how he had said it, and discovering that she had fallen in love with her best friend. _But I cannot tell him,_ she reminded herself now. _It is not fair to him as he goes off to the Free Marches. Besides, if he felt the same, would he not have said so by now?_

Nathaniel lifted a hand to her face, tilting it so that she would look up at him. "Bry, what is it?" _What has happened since last night?_ he wondered. _Did father or Thomas say or do something? Surely she would not hesitate to tell me if that was the case ..._ "Is something troubling you?"

Bryallyn felt the touch of his hand against her cheek, felt the spark that jumped between them and gasped softly. She did not realize her eyes had been closed until she heard him ask her a second time. Opening them once more, she looked up at him, saw the concern etched there, and ... something else? _Or is it that I want to see something there ...?_

Nathaniel stared into her greenish-brown gaze and finally began to understand. With a slight smile, he leaned in towards her until his lips hovered just over hers. "I _will_ write to you," he murmured softly, his breath fanning across her face.

Bryallyn swallowed hard, staring into his dark, stormy eyes. _That voice!_ she thought. "Nathaniel, I -"

Whatever she had been about to say was cut off as he leaned a bit further towards her and captured her lips with his in a gentle but powerful kiss. The moment he felt her begin to return the touch, to feel the fire that was igniting between them, he lowered his hands to her waist, pulling her close, angling his head so that their contact could deepen, become more exploratory, more searching, ... more thorough. He heard a soft groan in reaction, and realized belatedly that it had been his own.

Bryallyn slid her arms around his neck, lifting herself onto her toes to reach him just a little bit more. When he pulled back a few moments later, both of them heaving for breath, staring into the other's eyes, she felt tears begin to track down her face again. She felt him reach up to wipe the moisture away with his fingers before murmuring, "I will be back, Bry, I promise."

Bryallyn nodded, laying her head against his shoulder, feeling his arms tighten around her. "Nathaniel ...?"

"Will you wait for me?" he asked, his voice hard as steel.

Bryallyn stepped back and looked up at him. Nodding, she swallowed her tears and decided that she must bare her heart to him. "I want no one other than you." She saw his lips part, heard a soft gasp slip through, saw his eyes flare at her words. _Does he not feel the same?_ she panicked suddenly. _Did I say too much?_

Nathaniel's arm shot out, reaching around her head until he could propel her lips back to his. He took his time: reveling in the feel of her soft lips against his own, the touch of her fingers tangling in his tunic where he had trapped them against his chest, the sight of her half closed eyes as she responded to his touch, the soft sound of her keening cries, the scent of lavender and honey in her hair ... Nathaniel was startled from his observations when he realized he had backed Bryallyn against the stone wall. He lifted his head from hers, gasping again to catch his breath. Turning so that he did not pin her against the hard surface, he pulled her close. "Bry -"

"I will wait for you and only you," she promised breathlessly, looking up into his stormy grey eyes. "Oh, Nathaniel, I wish I had known before now ..."

Nathaniel groaned and held her to his chest. _I wish I had too!_

Releasing her for a brief moment, Nathaniel reached up to remove something from around his neck. He saw Bryallyn watching him closely, saw the curiosity in her eyes, and he simply smiled. When he finally managed to pull the chain from his neck, he gathered the slack until the pendant was left swinging just below his closed fist and they both could see it. "Do you know what this is?"

Bryallyn stared at the pendant as it swung lightly back and forth. Frowning, she glanced up at him. "It's a badger," she replied.

Nathaniel nodded, loosening the chain once more and taking it in both hands. "Adria, our nanny when we were little, now more or less our housekeeper," he glanced down at her, "like your Nan, I suppose - she gave this to me before I was sent away to Arl Bryland's to squire." He lifted the chain around Bryallyn's head and lowered it, allowing the heavier pendant to fall gently to her breast. "She told me at the time that the badger is unyielding in the face of danger and is noted for its tenacity and courage, and that it was representative of what she saw in me and knew I would become." He touched the pendant where it lay, watched her eyes drop to follow it as he traced it's shape. "I see the same in you, Bry," he told her softly.

Bryallyn's gasp was soft as she tilted her head to look back up at him. She searched his face for a long moment, before saying, "Nathaniel, I can't! This is yours - a bond between you and -"

Nathaniel placed a finger over her lips to silence her. "A bond between us now," he told her. "Wear this while I am gone," he suggested. "When I return, if you have decided I am not the one you want to be with, you can return it. But, if I find you wearing it, I will know you have made your decision ..."

Bryallyn paused for a long moment, before nodding in agreement. "I will," she promised before tucking it beneath the neck of her tunic. Stepping forward, she felt his arms return around her, pulling her close. "Thank you."

They stood in each other's embrace, the wind and rain whipping around them, for a long while simply absorbing the newness to their old and familiar relationship. Some time later, and very reluctantly, he released her and stood straighter. Lifting his hand, he cradled her cheek, tilting her eyes until their gazes locked. "I have to go," he told her sadly. "I am surprised, actually, that your brother has been able to keep my father from finding me before now."

Bryallyn swallowed past the lump of dread building in her chest. It weighed heavily upon her, awakening her senses to emotions, feelings and concerns that she had never had to worry about before. Doing her best to tamp them down for the time being, she reached out for his hand, smiling as his larger one wrapped securely around hers. It was a good fit, she decided. "We'd best not keep him waiting then," she said, leading him back towards the stairs.

As they descended in the darkness, she felt him place a hand on her shoulder, pulling her to a stop about halfway down. He moved until he was positioned on the step below her, their faces about even level. Even in the darkness, he could "see" her with his fingertips, felt hers taking the same route with him. Leaning his forehead against hers, he felt her trembling. "Bry? What is it?"

In the darkness, Bryallyn began to whisper her concerns. "Nathaniel, what if -"

Nathaniel smiled into the darkness and sighed as her voice cracked and trailed off, her concern echoing in the air around them. "Ah, my Bry," he murmured near her ear after pulling her close, "I know you will think me silly if I tell you this, and you must not tell another living soul ... especially Delilah," he added. "Promise?"

Bryallyn nodded against his neck. "I promise," she whispered.

Placing his lips near her ear, he whispered, "I have loved you since that day we met in the royal gardens when you called down your beautiful red-breasted falcon to protect you." He felt her body stiffen against his slightly, her shock clear at his words.

"Truly?" she breathed softly.

"Truly," he echoed. Turning so he could kiss her cheek briefly, he added, "Each and every time we are together only heightens what I feel for you. There will be no other for me," he swore, "only Bryallyn Theresia Cousland."

Bryallyn gasped in surprise to find that he had remembered her full name after all this time. "But, Nathaniel," she then whispered in concern, "what about ... what we heard last night?"

He managed to find her face with both of his hands. Cradling her face between them, he kissed her forehead. "I told you then, and I will repeat it now: Beware of my father and Thomas. They are up to something, that much is obvious. Beyond that, know that I love you, I will always love you come what may, and when I return we will think beyond the here and now."

Bryallyn nodded against his touch. "I will be careful," she promised.

They descended the rest of the way then, Nathaniel taking her hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly the entire way. When they approached the great hall, he kissed her one last time before they separated, but turned to enter the room together.


	12. Missing Missives I

_Thank you again to all who have read, reviewed and lurked as well as those who set alerts and favs including: MireliAmbar, Shakespira, Kokuun, Eva Galana, celtic-twinkie, MelRedux, Unmasked, Piceron, jenncgf, Erynnar, ProsePrincess and indy'sgirl. Your continued interest and support urges me on to further exploration of a story that has become very near and dear to me! I hope you continue to enjoy! Also, I must thank each and everyone of you for helping me reach the wonderful milestone of 100 reviews in chapter 10! That makes this my 5th story to reach that wonderful plateau and has the potential to blow me away before the story is finished! _

_Thanks as always to my wonderful betas who are brilliant talents in their own rights: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__. Please check out their stories - they are absolutely brilliant!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ..._

_**A/N:**__ I took a few liberties below with the whole mabari imprinting thing, going on the assumption that because Bryallyn is a ranger, she would have a better chance of connecting with a mabari that was given to her as a gift, rather than waiting on one to choose her._

_Also, I want to state this now - before any word of DA2 was ever put out, I intended Nathaniel to have a connection to Kirkwall - mostly because it was the only city on the map of the Free Marches that I thought had potential for what I have in mind for this story. That it appears to be the center of the new game only reinforces my decision and, perhaps (once the game and storyline are all out) will have the potential for more to be written? =)_

_**Musical Inspiration:**__ "A Lonely Voice" by October Project, "Stay on These Roads" by A-ha, "The Clock Ticks On" by Blackmore's Night, "Only Time Will Tell" by Asia and "Since You've Been Gone" by Rainbow._

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* * *

_

It was several months after Nathaniel's departure that Bryallyn was unexpectedly called to her father's study. Confused by this, she hurried there, unaware of any matter needing tending, or training issue with the men, or even ... _Oh, no,_ she thought suddenly as she reached for the door, her thoughts drifting back to the last visit by the Arl of Amaranthine and his family. _Surely he didn't find out about THAT!_ Bryallyn thought back to the night ... no, they had been careful, quiet, staying very, very close to the shadows. _Right? _Swallowing hard, she entered the room. _All we did was walk ... and talk. Well, there was the swimming too, but, really, it was dark and ... surely Arl Howe and Thomas didn't see or hear anything ... And a kiss wouldn't warrant ... well, it was more than just a kiss, but still ..._

Bryce was seated at his desk, Fergus standing nearby and both men were in the middle of a discussion about the state of Highever's troops. At the sound of his daughter's entry, Bryce turned. "Ah, there you are, Pup!" he exclaimed, rising to his feet.

"You ... wanted to see me, Father?" she asked, managing an even tone. She saw her brother glance at her, an impish smirk quirking at his lips. Bryallyn's eyes narrowed. _What do you know ...?_

Bryce smiled at her. "Yes indeed. Wylden down at the gates just brought this up and I thought you might like to see it."

Bryallyn stepped forward then as Bryce handed her a sealed document. Bryallyn frowned at the unfamiliar writing, clearly forming the letters of her name, and the ... seal ... _Nathaniel!_ Sliding her finger beneath the seal, she lifted it and opened the parchment.

Bryce watched his daughter from his position near the desk as she began wandering off to the far side of the room. He doubted she realized it, but she had lifted her hand to her lips and was biting the knuckles of her index finger. Bryce chanced a glance at Fergus who had lifted his gaze at the sudden quietness from his sibling. Both men shared a grin, and quickly turned back to their previous occupations as Bryallyn seated herself in a window seat and began reading.

_**5 Guardian, 9:26 - Free Marches**_

_Bry,_

_It is with a bit of trepidation that I begin this letter, not knowing if it will ever find you and, if it should, if you will ever respond. I know that you were insistent that I write, and I hope you meant that because I have come to find after our discussions during our last visit together that I cannot simply let our friendship fall by the wayside. The simple fact is, dear lady, that you and you alone are the one person in all of Thedas who is making this journey bearable for me. _

Bryallyn paused a moment, holding the parchment to her face, closing her eyes and imagining Nathaniel was near, his arms around her, his comforting presence offering her the reassurance she was searching for. She lifted a hand and placed it over the pendant that lay hidden beneath her tunic; she pressed against it lightly, a gentle smile lifting the corner of her mouth as she thought of him.

_As you can no doubt tell, I have arrived safely. The journey was not bad nor long, though dull and tiresome. At one point as we sailed, I found myself wondering at and intrigued by the possibility of being attacked by pirates. Alas, no such luck. _

_I am at the keep of an acquaintance of my father's, Doran Antell. Should you desire to respond, simply send a missive in my name, care of Antell to Kirkwall and it shall find its way to me. I wish you well, dear friend, and look forward to the day that we can compete once more with flights of arrows and simple targets instead of ink and parchment._

_Yours in friendship,_

_Nathaniel Howe_

Bryallyn folded the letter, lowering it to her lap as she turned to stare out the window. That day it was raining, and she began to wonder if the storm was there to mock her internal feelings. A soft sound startled her from her thoughts and she turned to her left to find her father standing nearby, a look of concern upon his face.

"Is all well, Pup?" his gentle voice queried.

Bryallyn blushed. "Yes, Father," she replied. "It ... it's from Nathaniel. He's arrived safely at," she scanned the letter in her hand once more, "Kirkwall."

"Ah, that is good to know," Bryce responded. He glanced over his shoulder at his son and nodded towards the doorway. "Pup, Fergus and I are going to see what Nan has available for the mid-day meal. Would you care to join us?"

Bryallyn shook her head and turned her attention back to the window and beyond. "No, thank you. I think I -"

Bryce placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "If you would care to respond to your, ... erm, _friend's_ letter," he murmured, "I can see that Wylden gets it to the first boat out to Kirwall."

Bryallyn smiled, turning to kiss her father's cheek in return. "Thank you, papa," she whispered.

Bryce smiled at her, patted her shoulder once more and turned to leave her to her thoughts. It was a few moments before Bryallyn rose and found the writing supplies at her father's desk. She settled herself in his chair, a large and comfortable one that she had fond memories of climbing onto the teryn's lap while she was a child and he was seated in it. Now as she sat there, she tried to rein in her thoughts, focus on a response ...

_**20 Drakonis, 9:26**_

_Dearest Friend,_

Bryallyn lifted her finger to her mouth, pressing her knuckle against her lips and teeth. What was he expecting of her? Was he wanting to keep their newly evolved relationship a secret for now? Was he waiting for her to be the one to say something first? Bryallyn closed her eyes tightly, searching for an answer. Sighing, she opted to leave the salutation for the time being. If he wanted it known, he would have to make the first move.

_I was very glad to hear of your safe arrival at your destination. And though I understand the wish you have for ... excitement, shall we say, in your life, the fact that you arrived without incident pleases me greatly._

_You do me great honor, my friend, in valuing my communication so dearly. I hope I can do both it and you justice. I shall endeavor to find many an amusing anecdote to tell for my next missive. For now, suffice it to say that it came as a great surprise and supreme delight to receive your message and know that you are in safe keeping._

_May the Maker keep you safe and in good health until next time, my friend._

_Faithfully -_

_Bryallyn Cousland_

Bryallyn glanced over the message, and finally nodded in satisfaction. Reaching for the candle holder and wax, she melted a small puddle of the wax upon the edge of the letter. Setting these items aside, she reached for the small stick kept for the purpose of stirring the wax to cool it to the proper temperature for an impression. As this time neared, Bryallyn set the stick aside before removing her signet from her finger. Each adult member of their family had one that contained the Cousland heraldic device in the background, a specialized combination of their initials that was unique to them, as well as one specialized symbol, again unique to each individual. Turning the ring so that the signet was face down, Bryallyn made the imprint, held it for a long moment, and then removed it before setting the letter flat on the desk in front of her. Sitting back in her father's chair, she folded her hands beneath her chin and stared at the document. _And so it begins ..._

_

* * *

_

Some weeks and months later, and on a fairly frequent schedule following thereafter, Bryallyn received additional messages from Nathaniel. Some were upbeat, other less so, but always they were polite, endearing and thankful to her for her friendship (which concerned her to a degree - had she imagined their declarations to each other? Had he, despite his promises, changed his mind? Met someone else?).

In Wintermarch of 9:27, while down with a severe case of one of the more common winter ailments, and over her birthday no less, a visitor arrived at Highever Castle requesting an audience with Bryallyn. As she was unable to entertain the guest in her father's study, Bryce brought him to her room.

Bryallyn repositioned herself in her bed, covers smoothed over her lap, shawl wrapped around her shoulders, as her father led the stranger into her rooms.

"My lady Bryallyn?" the guest asked.

Bryallyn nodded. "Yes?" she managed, wiping at her nose with a handkerchief she had in her hand.

The man gave her a warm smile. "My lady, my name is Liam. I have been sent on behalf of my lord, Nathaniel Howe. Sadly, his business in the Marches detains him still. However, he requested that I deliver this to you for the occasion of your birthday." He handed her a folded piece of parchment containing Nathaniel's handwriting and personal seal. Frowning, she broke the seal and read the short note.

_Bry, my dearest friend,_

_I hope this note finds you well, though if you have had as rough a winter as we have here, I have my doubts. If such is the case, I wish you the speediest of recoveries so that you may enjoy the enclosed gift. I am hoping for the best and entrusting it to your care, for it is nothing that I have space or time for at the moment. Should the arrangement not be acceptable, I leave it to your discretion to deal with the situation as you see fit._

_With deepest affection on the occasion of your birthday, I hope that this shall be a Constant friend until my return._

_Nathaniel_

Bryallyn frowned as she felt something of weight drop into her lap. Searching, she found a fairly heavy chain containing a pendant. "What in the Maker's name ...?" she breathed, lifting it so that she could see it closer. It was a chain, a heavy one at that, with a flat pendant attached. Flipping the metal disc over, she found an engraved name on it. "Constant."

A sudden soft yip caught Bryallyn's attention and she looked up to find Liam was now holding onto a very dark, incredibly wiggly bundle of furry energy. "Oh!" she gasped, recognizing the creature for what he was. Bryce chuckled from his position near his daughter and moved to take the animal, setting the pup beside her on the bed. He watched her glance up at him, and he nodded. Leaning down slightly, Bryallyn rubbed noses with the animal as he wiggled around excitedly and jumped onto her lap. The chain Nathaniel had sent was too big for him now, but she realized that Constant would grow ... and grow ... and grow. "Hello, boy!" she greeted the animal, petting him and scratching his belly. The mabari returned her greeting with a yip, another jump, and a lick of her face that had all adults laughing. Glancing at Liam, Bryallyn told him, "Thank you. If I were to write him a thank you note, would you be able to deliver it?"

Liam nodded. "Not personally, mind you, but I can make sure that it gets to him."

Bryce turned to leave the room, chuckling. "I shall return in a moment, Pup, with the writing supplies and lap desk." Bryallyn barely heard her father, too busy was she with her new friend who had decided to snuggle up on her lap and roll so that she would scratch his belly.

* * *

_Dearest Nathaniel,_

Nathaniel smiled at the greeting. He had removed himself from the company of his friends, retreating to one of his favorite spots in the keep ... the high tower that joined with the keep itself that housed the barracks. He had found the way to the very top shortly after his arrival, and used the escape sparingly, usually for when he received letters from Bryallyn. The one time that Devlyn and Rhyan had caught him with a letter, they had given him grief for weeks. Though in and of itself it hadn't bothered him - it had been one of Bry's early letters, there hadn't been much for his friends to tease him about - he did not want them thinking that they could use the situation as ammunition against him in future. Turning his eyes back to her even, neat scrawl, he continued reading:

_It is with greatest delight that I take on responsibility for your treasured gift. From the moment it arrived, there was a connection unlike any other I have experienced, save one. _

Nathaniel's brow lifted at this. _Save one._ He chuckled softly for a long moment as he thought about that. Apparently, his decision to send Constant for her birthday had been appreciated. Nathaniel had thought long and hard before he had done so, and in the end he had warned Bryallyn's parents of his intentions should they have any objections. He had been surprised by the enthusiastic response by the Teyrn, but the man had urged Nathaniel to follow through with his plans.

_Upon your return, I am sure you will be pleased with the efforts that have been made. A Constant vigil is being kept, and I shall badger you until you agree to assist. _

_Thank you again, dear friend, for you thoughtfulness and consideration. I pray the Maker guides your steps and keeps you safe until your return._

_Faithfully, _

_Bryallyn_

Nathaniel refolded the message and tucked it into his pocket for storage later with the others. Leaning back, he stared up at the darkening sky, the stars peeking out, the moon low on the horizon as it began the evening rise. _The mabari bonded,_ he thought. _And she still wears the pendant. It has been almost a year, and she writes as if things have not changed. _ Rising to his feet, he dusted off his trousers before lowering himself through the hatch. As he carefully descended the ladder, he quietly wondered how much longer he could expect the happiness he had found to last. The past had taught him on many an occasion that finding happiness quite often resulted in finding sorrow as well.


	13. Missing Missives II

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those setting favs and alerts including: Erynnar, Eva Galana, Shakespira, jenncgf, Piceron, Miltonia and ProsePrincess._

_Thank you to my wonderfully patient and superbly awesome betas: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__ who are among the best friends a writer could ever hope for! Thank you my friends so very much for your help!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ….._

_**A/N:**__ Musical Inspiration: "The Sign" by Ace of Base, "All Things Considered" by Yankee Grey, "Suspended in Time" from the Soundtrack to __**Xanadu**__._

* * *

Bryallyn was returning indoors with Fergus and Rory Gilmore after a day's field training with Highever's soldiers when she spotted her mother heading towards the great hall. Eleanor turned as she spotted them and waved them over. "Hurry," she told them as she ushered them in the direction of the living quarters. "Arl Howe and his family will be here shortly. They have upped their arrival date ... hurry and make yourselves presentable!"

Bryallyn sighed heavily as she turned towards her room. Fergus remained by her side though Rory had turned in another direction headed towards the barracks where he housed with the rest of the Highever soldiers. As they walked, Bryallyn glanced up at her brother.

Though his thoughts were elsewhere, Fergus caught her look out of the corner of his eye. "Problem?" he asked.

"Perhaps," she returned. This would be the first time that Bryallyn had found herself alone with the Howes without Nathaniel's presence nearby. "I ..." Bryallyn stopped walking and turned to face her brother. "Fergus, I have some ... concerns," she announced without giving him the source of her knowledge, "that Thomas Howe may be attempting to ... court me?" _Can I really call it that? After what we heard?_

Fergus frowned. "This is a problem?" he asked. In his mind, Nathaniel was a better match, and he had thought that the elder Howe was of the same mind, but as Fergus was not party to the communications between his sister and Nathaniel, he realized that the situation could have changed. Now, as he waited on her answer, he watched her face closely, saw a flash of something passing in her eyes, and he thought he finally understood. "Ah, I see."

Bryallyn tried to find her voice, but had trouble. "I have ... reason to suspect that Thomas will not take no for an answer," she whispered. She reluctantly lifted her eyes to lock onto his. "Brother, I need your assistance. I have absolutely no interest in him, but mother and father might not understand if I refuse him without telling them why ..."

Fergus gave her a warm brotherly smile and pulled her close for a hug. "Bry," he told her, "I will help as I can, but in return I have one question for you. Will you answer it?"

She searched his eyes carefully. "Yes," she promised.

"Is your reluctance because Thomas was responsible for your injury, or because you are interested in someone else?" Fergus asked.

Bryallyn struggled to answer his question honestly but vaguely. "I ... Fergus, I am already spoken for," she whispered. She watched his face closely for his reaction.

"Nathaniel?" Fergus saw her nod once. "Fair enough then. I have no reason to believe that Thomas would be anything like a good match for you at any rate," he added.

Bryallyn did not hide her tears of thankfulness when she threw her arms around her brother for a hug. "Thank you, Fergus!" she whispered.

Fergus squeezed her back affectionately. "Just keep in mind," he added teasingly, "that this will cost you ... a weekend of watching Oren perhaps?"

Bryallyn rolled her eyes and lightly punched his arm as they ascended into the living quarters. "I will gladly do so," she promised, "if it means I do not have to worry about Thomas!"

* * *

_**17 Justinian, 9:27**_

_Nathaniel,_

_I have taken a few moments, stolen if you will, from your family's visit to pen this message. I am delighted to see your sister once more, as you may guess. Her presence, like yours, is a balm when facing the rest of your family. Delilah, by the way, has asked that I mention that she sends her love and very best wishes to you, and she apologizes for the delay in her next letter._

_Since his arrival, like we thought, Thomas has again been trying to separate me from the pack, so to speak, in order to press his advances. He has yet to be successful, however, as Fergus has become our agreeable ally. Additionally, Delilah appears to be running interference. Whether she is simply concerned for my welfare or has guessed at the truth, I do not know, but it is a relief to know that I am not alone in this. Fear not, my friend, I am safe and shall remain so._

_Tonight at dinner there was discussion of the upcoming Landsmeet. Though the thought of traveling to Denerim is agreeable to me, and the potential for amusement there is great, I spoke with both of my parents this evening, and they have agreed that I will remain at Highever this year, with Oriana and Oren. The official explanation is that I will be "holding down the fort" here at the castle while my parents and brother are gone. I will tell you honestly, my friend, I simply do not wish to take any chances. Thomas has acted ... within reason, I suppose, so far, but my instincts are screaming that he will not give up._

_Faithfully, _

_Bry_

Bryallyn heard a soft knock at her door, set her writing desk aside and rose from her bed to answer the summons. Cracking the door just slightly, she found Delilah standing just outside the portal. Smiling, Bryallyn stepped aside and allowed her entrance into her room. "Problem?"

Delilah sighed and shook her head. "Not ... exactly," she replied, taking a seat by the table near the table against the wall. Sighing heavily, she sat back and closed her eyes. "There are times when I wish I was not related to my brother," she grumbled.

Bryallyn laughed aloud at that. "I assume you are referring to Thomas and not Nathaniel?" she teased with a grin. When she saw Delilah barely respond, she added, "Del, I think every sister goes through that at least once in a while!" She watched the other girl sit up and frown at her then. "That bad?"

Delilah nodded. "He's an embarrassment, Bry!" she hissed. "I was finally able beg off because of a headache, but I know my parents will be disappointed in me ..."

There was the sound of a heavy handed knock at her door, and Bryallyn watched as Delilah actually flinched at the noise. Neither young woman had any doubt as to who was on the other side of the barrier. Rising to her feet, Bryallyn made to answer the summons as she hissed, "Let me deal with this. Just follow my lead, okay?"

Opening the door, Bryallyn found Rendon Howe standing there, his eyes looking thunderous. "Ah, my dear," he told Bryallyn while scanning inside the room. "I wonder if you might have seen my Delilah. She indicated she was not feeling well and was going to lie down ..."

Bryallyn stepped aside to allow the man visual access to his daughter. "So she informed me, my lord," Bryallyn responded while walking to Delilah's side and handing the girl a small health potion. "I suggested she take one of my healing potions. I keep several on hand for just such emergencies." Bryallyn watched Delilah take the vial, giving Bryallyn a quick look before downing it in one swallow.

Turning back towards the Arl, she continued, "I would be glad to escort her to her room once we are sure the potion is working, my lord. If necessary, I will ask Nan to provide her with something stronger, if that is agreeable with you?"

Bryallyn watched the man's face closely: each slight adjustment to his facial expression, the slightest of sneers, the suggestion of a glowering of anger ... Bryallyn watched as he turned on her, his anger about to explode ... until a low, growling bark came between them, echoing throughout the room. Bryallyn watched the man recover quickly, stepping back from her, his attention drawn to the year-old mabari at their feet. He seemed to recover himself then, the anger disappearing quickly as if a curtain had come down behind his eyes. "Of course," he told her, his voice struggling for pleasantness. "That is very ... considerate of you."

Bryallyn smiled. "It is my pleasure, my lord," she murmured, gesturing him out of the room then. She saw Constant move beside the opening, his growl still there, but not as loud now. "Good evening."

When he had gone and the door was shut once more, Bryallyn chanced a look at Delilah. Both girls let out nervous giggles, their words falling over the others as one said, "I can't believe you did that!" And the other, "Did you _see_ his face?" And to top things off, Constant suddenly barrelled his way into his master, knocking her onto the bed where he could offer her his nosy, slobbery comments on the whole situation. With giggles and smiles, Bryallyn relaxed and hugged the animal. "Thank you, my friend," she told him. "You saved the day!"

* * *

_**6 Cloudreach, 9:28**_

_Nathaniel,_

_I do hope this letter finds you in time for your birthday! I can only say that between Oren demanding my time to play with him and Constant's never ending brushes with Nan in the kitchens, I have simply lost track of the days. I fear that I may have missed my window of opportunity, and therefore shall have to make it up to you with tales of such adventure as to distract you from my tardiness._

Nathaniel again found himself upon the top of the tower, staring out to the south in the direction of his homeland. In the nearly two years he'd been in the Free Marches, he'd only received letters from three people: his sister, Delilah; Teyrn Cousland in response to his request to send Bryallyn the mabari pup for her birthday; and Bryallyn herself.

_Fergus' son is now a very precocious six, and demands attention from any and all he can find. He is the most, ahem, "lackadaisical and willful student, quite in keeping with his father's temperament," according to Aldous, our old tutor. When asked as recently as last week to explain the history of the Cousland family, Oren managed to turn the discussion into a focus on the old kings of Ferelden and the weapons used by said kings. It appears as if my nephew has a desire, not so hidden, to become a sword and shield man like his father, though he finds plenty of time to demand lessons on how to use a bow from his Auntie Bry. This gives the family much amusement ... except perhaps his poor mother who thinks it disgraceful that we encourage him as we do._

Nathaniel found himself chuckling as he reread the paragraph. During his visit, he had seen the fondness between nephew and aunt, between the whole Cousland clan for that matter, and he had found himself becoming a bit jealous at what he had not had. But as the time at Highever had worn on, he had come to realize that the jealousy was fast becoming hope ... for what someday he and Bryallyn might be able to have together.

_As for Constant, yes, my ever Constant friend as you suggested when you sent him to me, he has yet AGAIN managed to find a way into the larder so that he can make a mess, upset Nan to no end, who then gets after me of all people, and let's me have an earful ... and I do mean EARful! Ah, Nathaniel, to have you here upon occasion that she might give you that earful instead of me ..._

Nathaniel shuddered at that thought. He had met Nan upon several occasions, none of which could be considered ... comfortable.

_I miss you, dear friend, and hope that you have an enjoyable birthday celebration. I also pray to the Maker (much to Mother Mallol's dismay, I might add!) that you are allowed to return home soon to be with family and friends who truly care for you. Maker keep you safe, my dearest friend._

_Faithfully,_

_Bry_

* * *

_**5 Harvestmere, 9:29**_

_Bry,_

_Circumstances insist that I keep this brief for now, but should all go as planned, I shall be in close communication with you soon. Stay safe and well, my friend, for I have news I hope you shall find to be ... pleasant._

_Nathaniel_

Bryallyn stood in the center of the chapel reading the brief note a second time in as many minutes. "Close communication?" _What does that mean?_ Bryallyn glanced at the perpetual calendar hanging on the wall. It had been a month since Nathaniel had written and sent the letter, but still no further word. Bryallyn left the chapel and returned to her room to change. Once ready, she grasped her cloak and _Wicked Grace_, whistled for Constant and began walking out to the stables. She passed Fergus in the hall and informed him of her plans, to which he simply nodded before watching her stalk out of the castle. Hiding his mirth, he turned towards the library where he knew he would find his father in the study.


	14. The Prodigal Son Returns

_Thanks to all who read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those who set alerts and favs including: Shakespira, MireliAmbar, Zeeji, Miltonia, Eva Galana, celtic-twinkie, Liso66, Prose Princess, Evalyne, Piceron, Suaviterinmodo and Erynnar._

_Thank you to my fabulous betas: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__. _

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N:**__ Songs: "Bad Reputation" by Joan Jett, "Since You've Been Gone" by Rainbow, "Stay On These Roads" by A-ha, "Burning Love" by Elvis Presley._

_

* * *

_

He returned with no celebration, no fanfare, not even anyone waiting at the dock for him, though he had sent word ahead of his impending return. _Typical_, he thought to himself as he reached for his bags. He didn't carry much with him, having decided long before to keep his belongings to a minimum, and those things that were important, he would keep close to his person. _Like Bryallyn_. As he waited for the gangplank to be set into place so he could disembark, Nathaniel smiled briefly. _At least, I hope she will want to be close by,_ he amended silently. Their separation that began almost four years before had occurred just as they were discovering their true feelings for one another. _What if she's moved on and found someone else? _he wondered. _What if she's decided she prefers Thomas or someone like him over me?_ That last thought almost made him recoil with horror.

"Come on, mate," a voice behind him broke into his thoughts, "where's this veritable palace you've told me about, eh?"

Nathaniel sighed, taking refuge from his riotous thoughts in practicalities. "This way, Dev," he replied as he led the way down to the dock and then into the city of Amaranthine. He glanced around. _Still no one._ Nathaniel continued to lead the way on through the city, silently slipping through the market district and exiting through the front gates.

"How far is it?" his companion queried.

"Couple of hours by foot," Nathaniel replied as they finally turned onto the road that would lead them to Vigil's Keep. _Home_. They walked in companionable silence for a time, keeping an eye out for any trouble that might decide to come their way, and though it had been a while since he had last traveled these roads, Nathaniel unerringly found the way home.

* * *

Delilah was in her room when she heard quiet voices walking by ... including a voice she had not heard in several years. Moving quickly and quietly, she slipped from her room and made her way down the hall. She passed Thomas' room, knowing that this late in the day he'd most likely be three sheets to the wind. She continued to the room beyond, the one with the door a bit ajar and daylight streaming out of it as if the curtains had been drawn open ... the one belonging to Nathaniel. Though still partially closed, Delilah took a step just inside the door, finding her brother standing near his bed, rummaging through a backpack, occasionally removing an item and setting it aside. She was about to speak to him when she heard a deep voice from the other side of the door say sarcastically, "Nice view."

Delilah watched her brother glance up and chuckle. "You get used to it," he replied absently before turning towards the door to face her. Smiling, he reached a hand out to gesture her further into the room. "Ah, and here is my sister to welcome me home!"

Delilah smiled as she walked into his warm embrace. "Are you home for good, brother?" she asked.

Nathaniel chuckled. "For this moment," he replied with a wink. The two siblings knew that ultimately it was up to their father. Gesturing towards his companion, Nathaniel said, "Del, I would like you to meet Devlyn Cashen, my friend, hanger-on and, according to him, my second, though he does not believe that I may yet change my mind. Dev, my sister Delilah."

Delilah took in the man's appearance: he was nearly as tall as Nathaniel with dark blonde hair that he wore short with one long braid trailing down the side of his head where it retreated behind his left ear. From the way that he was dressed, Delilah suspected that he was a sword and shield warrior, but she was not certain. His chest was large and broad, indicating he certainly had the build for it, though she did not see any evidence of the heavy armor and shield that usually accompanied such men. Making a small curtsy, she murmured, "A pleasure to meet you, Devlyn."

The man stepped forward then, reaching out to take her hand which he then brought to his lips so that he could brush the knuckles. "The pleasure is mine, dear lady," he assured her. "Nathaniel, you cad, you had me believing your sister to be some-ill kempt old maid, not the ravishing beauty standing before us now! It is a good thing we are friends or I might believe you were trying to hide her away from me!"

Delilah saw her brother roll his eyes and immediately suspected that she would have to keep her eyes and wits about her with this one. "My brother does have the tendency to ... understate things," she agreed. At Nathaniel's questioning look, she gave him her best _we will talk later_ look. "I assume you both just arrived and, as we have had no advanced word, you must have walked?" She saw both men nod in agreement. "Then why don't we head for the kitchens," she suggested, offering each of them an arm, "where I am certain the cook shall be delighted to see you."

Nathaniel glanced at his friend and waved at the far side of his room. "Leave your gear here, Dev, until we find you a room." He had no sooner finished speaking than his friend had done exactly that and moved to Delilah's side, sliding her arm through his and leading her out of the room while saying, "I suspect that we should go ahead without your brother, you know. He has a voracious appetite and has been known to eat his way through multi-course meals with relative ease, leaving absolutely nothing for any other living creature ..."

Rolling his eyes once more, Nathaniel gave the pair a head start before following after them. As he walked through the familiar halls, he began to wonder when his parents might make their first appearance and if they would welcome him home ...

* * *

"Enter."

Delilah looked up from her bed to find Nathaniel responding to her permission to enter, thankfully alone. It amazed her that the two men had been at Vigil's Keep for nearly two weeks already, and this was the first time Nathaniel had managed to find her alone so that they could speak. Sitting up in her bed, she drew her legs up beneath the covers, crossing them and patted the space in front of her on the mattress for him to sit.

Easing his lithe frame onto the bed with a cat-like grace, he was barely seated before Delilah asked him, "Will you be going to Highever with us in a few weeks?"

Nathaniel lifted his head to look at her closely. "You sound as if you know the answer to that question better than I," he returned neutrally. The last thing Nathaniel wanted to do was reveal his plans before he was ready.

Delilah sighed and began thrumming her fingers against the book she had been reading. "Nathaniel -"

Reaching a hand out and resting it against her hand, Nathaniel murmured, "Yes, Del, I will be going."

"Oh, good!" she breathed. At his look of inquiry, she asked, "Am I wrong to assume that there is something more than mere friendship between you and Bry, brother?"

"What makes you ask that?"

Delilah gave him a hard look, and upon hearing the wariness in his voice, her gaze softened somewhat. "Oh, Nathaniel," she said lightly, "did you think I wouldn't notice?" She sighed and leaned forward to whisper, "I saw her wearing the pendant, the one Adria gave you when you were little. I know how important that is to you. Did you think I would not make the connection?"

Nathaniel blinked. "She still wears it?" he whispered in astonishment. He had hoped ...

There was a quirk to her smile, but Delilah managed to bring it under control. "When last I saw her, she was," she told him. Keeping an eye on him, she ventured, "I expect this ... pleases you, yes?"

Nathaniel looked at her in bewilderment, but nodded. "Del -"

Delilah smiled and covered his hand with her own. "Brother, I could not wish a better match for you," she told him honestly. "I think the two of you will make a wonderful team, a formidable pairing." This last was said with a grin. "I just hope I always remain on your good side!"

Nathaniel sighed, allowing his embarrassment to pass as he reached out to pull his sister close for a hug. "Thanks, Del," he murmured. When he sat back, he inquired, "When do we leave for Highever?"

Delilah thought for a moment. "Two weeks. Why?"

Rising, Nathaniel leaned over and whispered, "Would it bother you if I went on ahead by about a week?" He saw her frown, and added, "I know Father won't be happy about this when he finds out, but some things - people - are worth ... taking a chance on."

Delilah clapped her hands together softly, grinning from ear to ear. "If it means I end up with a new sister, I don't mind you leaving ahead of us at all!" she whispered. "Will you be taking Dev with you?"

Nathaniel nodded. "I would not inflict him upon you without ... proper chaperoning," he told her in mock sincerity. He watched her laugh softly, and smiled. "You may have to take the flack from mother and father for my early departure," he warned.

Delilah snorted. "I can handle it. Perhaps I can fob it off on Thomas. It isn't like he's not deserving anyway ..."

Rolling his eyes but unable to hide a grin from her, Nathaniel turned and left the room, his head spinning with plans the entire way. _It is time to move forward ..._


	15. The Times They Are A Changing

_Thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those setting alerts and favs including: ProsePrincess, Shakespira, Eva Galana, celtic-twinkie, Miltonia, The-Enduring-Fox, EllaRaines, Erynnar, Sonatica and jenn4306. Your continued interest and comments delight me to no end! I am so glad you are all enjoying the story!_

_Thanks as ever to my wonderfully talented betas: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__, and __**VioletTheirin**__ without whom I would not be able to do this! Thank you my friends!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ….._

_**A/N:**__ Songs: Sammy Hagar, "Your Love is Driving me Crazy;" Billy Joel, "For the Longest Time;" George Harrison, "Got My Mind Set On You;" OST for "Streets of Fire," a song called "Nowhere Fast;" Brooks & Dunn, "My Maria."_

_Word of note: as of Chapter 20, this story will boost up to an M rating. Make sure you have your alerts set so that you can continue along on the journey …!_

* * *

Nathaniel rode easily, the wind blowing through his now shoulder length hair as his steed cantered along the road leading along the coast of the famous cliffs outside of Highever. Fergus had told him his sister would often ride out here, walking the cliffs to clear her mind or simply to pass an afternoon. He sincerely hoped that Fergus was right today. He had defied his father by traveling ahead (albeit accompanied by his second) to arrive in Highever early by several days, but Nathaniel had wanted the time alone without the distraction of his family. He needed to think, to determine exactly what it was that he wanted ... and what she might want, and whether the two might blend together.

In the distance, he spotted her: a mixture of blues, black and silver astride a dark horse, currently riding along the path ahead of him, her hair pulled back in one long, loose braid. She was not in armor, though he could see the bow at her back, and there was a blur of movement at her side. Nathaniel smiled as he drew nearer: Constant. He should have known that the mabari would be by her side, her "ever Constant" friend indeed.

Bryallyn heard the sound of approaching hoof beats, but did not draw her weapon. Glancing down at Constant, he continued running along beside her as if nothing was amiss, indicating that the person approaching was a friend. Instead, she chose to lift her face into the wind, allowing it to blow the loose tendrils that had escaped her braid away from her face, tickling her chin, neck and ears.

As he drew alongside her, Nathaniel reached out to take the reins and slow her mount, pulling his own to a halt alongside. He watched her turn in her seat ... and the surprise that began to fill her eyes as she realized. "Nathaniel!" she gasped before throwing her arms around him in a hug of greeting, not caring that the action pulled her out of her saddle and onto his lap. "You've come home!"

Nathaniel chuckled and hugged her in return. "I should have sent you another letter if I'd wanted you to be at the keep when I arrived, yes?" he teased. When she blushed, he kissed her forehead. "How have you been, Bry?"

Bryallyn dropped to the ground before taking back her reins. Once he joined her, she started walking along, leading her mount and guiding him over to the side of the road nearer to the cliffs' edge. "I have been well enough," she replied when Nathaniel began walking beside her. Constant came bolting over then, barking and yipping at both of them before dashing off and then running back in obvious excitement. Nathaniel laughed at the hound's reaction and reached to the ground for a stick to toss for him. "And yourself?"

Nathaniel sighed as he straightened. "The same," he replied, his voice the deep, rich timbre she remembered so well. "Though, I must admit I am glad to be back in Ferelden. And the ... scenery has certainly ... improved."

Bryallyn frowned a moment in confusion until she realized his meaning. Blushing slightly she smiled. Truth be told, she was glad he was back too. "When did you return?"

"Four weeks ago. I've been at Amaranthine since."

They walked in companionable silence for a time, with occasional stops to toss the stick for Constant or allow the horses to take a bite from a succulent portion of grass. Bryallyn silently, almost without thought, led him to the top of the cliffs until they could go no further. Gazing out over the Waking Sea, she told him, "I would come here, you know, at least two or three times a week ... I would spend hours looking out over the water towards the Marches."

Nathaniel paused to look at her. She stood beside him, her tall frame now reaching his shoulder. She was dressed in a deep blue tunic, black breeches and soft leather boots with a riding heel. The cloak she wore was of heavy wool, needed as the weather was in it's late season fluctuation. "Now, why would a beautiful lady such as yourself waste her valuable time staring off over the seas at some foreign land?" he teased. "Surely it was not worth the effort."

Bryallyn groaned softly, turning to face him. Fire in her brownish-green depths, she was surprised when he reached a hand out as she moved, grasping the back of her head and pulling her close. She felt his lips angle against hers and couldn't stop a gasp of surprise at the suddenness of his action ... just moments before melting against him at the contact, her arms sliding around his waist in an effort to keep from falling. In a heartbeat, she felt the time and distance of the past few years that had separated them disappear completely.

Nathaniel teased her gently, knowing that he had to tread carefully if he wanted to convince her, for he had no doubts now. After lifting his head from hers, he murmured, "Or perhaps it was worth the time after all ...?"

Bryallyn looked up into grey eyes that matched the clouds over the Waking Sea. "Nathaniel ...?"

Taking a deep breath, he found himself struggling to find the words he wanted. "Bry, I ... wish to speak with you about something ... important."

Bryallyn stopped walking and turned to face him. She could see a nervousness in him that she had never seen before. Reaching out, she touched his hand through the leathers he was wearing. "Nathaniel? What is it? Are you all right?"

Nathaniel laughed shortly, swallowed hard and then told her, "Yes, I suppose you could say that." At her frown, he shook his head. "Sorry, Bry, I'm just ... I mean, I ..."

Bryallyn squeezed his hand while capturing his other with her other hand. Facing him, she squeezed both hands tight and stepped up close. "Nathaniel, you know I don't frighten easily ...?" He nodded at her softly voiced question. "You are frightening me now. What is wrong? Talk to me! You always used to."

He took a deep breath, staring into her eyes and finally managing a small smile. Lifting a hand to her cheek, he murmured, "I want to know ... _need _to know if you will consent to ... becoming my wife?"

Bryallyn felt her body suddenly go cold, the blood draining from her face, the world around her slowing down and spinning suddenly around her. Then just as quickly, it all sped back up, and she felt a warmth she had never felt before taking over. And through it all, she held the stormy gaze in front of her, focused only on them as the world shifted and shook about her.

Nathaniel watched her closely, carefully. At first he thought she might fall over and he reached a hand out to hold her by her shoulder to keep that from happening. He saw her continue to hold his gaze, searching into his soul for some answer ... "Bry?" he called softly. "I know it has been a while, but -"

Bryallyn finally found her voice, though it came out in a harsh whisper. "Oh, Nathaniel, yes! Of course, yes!"

And then she launched herself into his arms, and for the first time in his life, Nathaniel felt as if his world was finally complete.

* * *

Bryallyn sat upon his lap, snuggled against him, his cloak surrounding them both as they watched the distant waves in the Waking Sea below them. They were sitting along the cliffs edge where the tree line reached closest, leaning back against one of the giant trees. _If the world were to end now, _she thought as she curled into his warmth,_ I could face the Maker completely happy._

"I need to speak with your father," Nathaniel murmured near her ear. "Ask his permission ... and your mother's."

Bryallyn said nothing, but moved her head against his shoulder. "Together," she finally whispered. "We will speak to my parents together."

Nathaniel smiled against her hair, his arms holding her securely to him. "Together it is then," he agreed, though for the moment both were content to stay as they were.

* * *

Bryallyn stood beside Nathaniel as they faced her parents in her father's study, her hand secure in his. Nathaniel insisted she let him do the speaking and reluctantly she'd agreed. Instead, she found herself examining her parents during the discussion, determining their body language and true reactions while she continued to grasp Nathaniel's hand in support.

Nathaniel waited a bit anxiously for the teyrn's response after he'd made his request. Should the man refuse him, he didn't know what he would do. Nathaniel had nothing but the utmost respect for the teyrn, but he was bound and determined to have Bryallyn -

Bryce rose to his feet slowly, his hands clasped behind his back, a serious expression crossing his features. Glancing at Bryallyn, he queried, "And what do you think of this ... request, Pup? This affects you more than it does your mother and I."

Bryallyn eyed her father closely. _He is really leaving it up to me!_ she realized. She glanced at her mother who nodded slightly. "I believe it to be a good ... arrangement," she returned softly, "as I happen to love him."

Bryce glanced down at his wife, still seated in her chair. Eleanor reached for his hand, squeezed it gently before using it to assist in rising to her feet. The teyrna walked over to stand in front of her daughter. "This is truly what you want?" she asked. Bryallyn looked her mother in the eyes and nodded solemnly. Turning to Nathaniel, Eleanor asked him, "And you will take care of her?"

"Unto my dying breath." He felt Bryallyn's hand squeezing his. Perhaps it had been a bit much, he realized afterwards, but that didn't change the fact that he meant it every word of it.

Eleanor glanced up at her husband. "Well, Bryce, I don't see that we can do anything else but wish them well, do you?" she asked rhetorically.

Bryallyn gave Nathaniel a quick look before throwing her arms around her mother. Eleanor chuckled near her daughter's ear and whispered, "Did you really think we would deny you this, my darling?"

When Bryce took his daughter in his arms, he murmured, "I cannot think of a better man for you, Pup. I hope you both will be very happy together."

Bryallyn stepped back from him and replied, "If we can have just a fraction of what you and mother have had over the years, I have no doubt that we will be."

Bryce shared a warm look with his wife. "It wasn't always easy, remember that," he cautioned his daughter.

Eleanor smiled back at him. "No, it certainly wasn't. But it has been worth every bit that we have had to endure." She stepped forward then and kissed Nathaniel's cheek, effectively welcoming him to the family. "Now, go along you two, and find Fergus to tell him, though I suspect he knows already."

As the younger couple left the room, still holding hands, Eleanor stepped closer to her husband. Lifting her eyes to Bryce's, she asked, "You are sure he is nothing like the father?"

Bryce nodded, pulling her close. A short time after Bryallyn's birth, Eleanor had finally broken down and told her husband about several instances she had been at the hands of Rendon Howe and his ... unwanted advances*****. Bryce had found it all too easy to believe, unfortunately, and friend though the man was, they had agreed to keep him away from their daughter as much as possible, and when unable to do that, to be sure that she was well chaperoned when in the Arl's presence. In the years since, no other incidents had occurred, and Bryce had relaxed his concerns, but not completely. When Eleanor had first noted Nathaniel's increasing interest in their daughter, she had insisted her husband check into the younger Howe's background. Kissing his wife's head now, Bryce told her, "Nathaniel is _nothing_ like his father, Ellie. I've checked into it thoroughly."

Eleanor sighed into his embrace. "I hope you are right, darling. Otherwise our daughter has just walked into a bronto's den of trouble."

* * *

Nathaniel found her later that evening up on the battlements of Highever Castle. She stood in the darkness, her cloak fastened at her neck, her hair down, the dark curls being tossed about in the wind. When he neared, she sensed his presence and turned to face him. With a soft smile, she stepped into the embrace he offered.

Bryallyn felt his arms slide around her, keeping her close, safe and warm. "Why are you up here?" she asked against his chest.

"I was having trouble sleeping," he admitted.

Bryallyn glanced up at him then. "That wouldn't have anything to do with your overly amorous second chasing after one of the servants now, would it?" she teased. But she saw that he was being serious, and dropped the teasing, asking instead, "What's the matter?"

He smiled, feeling at ease for the first time in a long while simply by being in her presence. "I'm just trying to think how my father will react when I tell him ..."

Bryallyn gasped. "You haven't spoken with him yet?"

Nathaniel actually blushed a bit. "Bry, we barely tolerate each other's presence. Why would I speak with him about something like this before hand?"

"Will he keep us from marrying?" Bryallyn asked slowly, carefully. "I mean, you are the eldest ..."

Nathaniel shook his head immediately. Lifting a hand to caress her cheek, he turned her head to face his. "No, he views Thomas as his heir, remember? My brother will practically jump to do his bidding. As for my father's refusal, that I simply will not allow. No matter what, Bry, we will be together. Besides," he added, "your brother and father have both repeatedly assured me that they would like me to become a part of the Highever contingent. I suspect," he added with a grin, "that your father is not wanting to let his little girl go just yet."

Bryallyn bit her lip and blushed. Though she knew that was probably true, she suspected that her mother had more of a hand in the offer than anything. Bryallyn's thoughts turned then towards Arl Rendon Howe and the potential for trouble that he offered. She remembered all too well the few times she had been forced to speak with Nathaniel's father. None of them had been pleasant, and most had left her feeling uncomfortable afterwards. _Oh Maker,_ she prayed, _please don't let anything come between us!_

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_***A/N:**__ referencing to my story __**We Do What Must Be Done**__._


	16. An Announcement

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked as well as those who set favs and alerts including: Nithu, Miltonia, Shakespira, Sisimka, Liso66, Eva Galana, celtic-twinkie, ProsePrincess, jenncgf, Miralsobel and Erynnar._

_Thanks to my "ever constant" betas: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__ who inspire me in ways that I cannot possibly begin to describe or thank them enough for!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …._

_**A/N:**__ song selections: "Place in This World" by Michael W. Smith, "Don't Fear the Reaper" by Blue Oyster Cult (yes, I have an odd sense of humor), "Livin' on a Prayer" by Bon Jovi and "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey._

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Nathaniel stood his ground, his posture straight, his countenance nonthreatening. He was more used to his father's automatic dismissal of anything and everything that he had to say as being something utterly and completely useless than this silence. But then, it wouldn't have been his father if something surprising didn't occur.

Instead of chastising Nathaniel for an arrangement he would have preferred for Thomas, Rendon Howe stood in front of his eldest and gave him a smile. "Brilliant, my boy, simply brilliant," the patriarch was saying in that normal, nasal tone he always seemed to have. "I cannot understand how, with your lack of social standing and connections, you were able to succeed in such a match, but by the Maker you did! Perhaps there is hope for you yet!"

Nathaniel turned towards his mother who simply nodded her approval. Without another word, he excused himself and left their room at Highever to go in search of Bryallyn. A short while later, he found her in the library reading a book on the Cousland family history. Briefly, he wondered if it would become required reading for him after their marriage. "Let's go for a walk," he suggested.

Leading her outdoors, they wandered through the courtyard and began walking into the town of Highever itself, meandering through the maze of streets. It was some time before he began speaking, and by then they were nearing the town's center. "I spoke with my parents," Nathaniel told her finally.

Bryallyn glanced up at him then, concern clearly evident at his reaction. He had told her ahead of time he was going to do this today. When she had offered to go with him, he had smiled at her in appreciation of the offer, but flat out refused. Sensing now that there was more to this than his simple statement suggested, she hedged, "And?"

Nathaniel shook his head now, staring off in the far distance ahead of them. He felt her hand upon his arm as he led her, but otherwise his attention was preoccupied. "That's just it, Bry. They had no objections: none at all."

Bryallyn paused in her steps, pulling Nathaniel to a standstill beside her. "Is that not what you wanted to happen?" she queried softly.

Nathaniel blushed slightly. "Yes," he admitted, "but Bry, you have to understand: they have never simply agreed with me on anything before. On everything from the smallest issue to the largest, they have always fought me. This," he waved his hand and arm around as if encompassing the two of them, "this is so contrary to what I've come to expect … I am not sure how to take it."

Looking up at him, leaning against his arm, Bryallyn smiled and replied, "Think of it this way: Once we are married and out on our own, we will not have to worry about them nearly as much."

Nathaniel wrapped his arm around her, hoping she was right. Knowing his father, despite the arrangements that had been made to bring Nathaniel to Highever and place him within the ranks of the teyrn's men, Rendon could still find a way to be ... troublesome. _What else can I do to keep Bryallyn near her family and both of us away from Father...?_

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* * *

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_**Highever Castle, 3 Harvestmere, Dragon 9:29**_

_My last attempt to obtain what should rightfully be mine through the union of my blood with the Cousland's daughter has failed. My pathetic excuse of an heir, Thomas, has failed me yet again, and perhaps for the last time. He had his opportunities, I showed him the way, but he either squandered his chance or he refused to put forth his best efforts. Either way, he will pay the cost for failing me._

_For, as I suspected, Nathaniel has succeeded without guidance and where his brother could not, that in being able to convince Bryce and Eleanor's little chit to marry him. Despite assertions to the contrary from both parties involved, he __is__ his mother's son and is quite obviously under her influence - I can see this all too clearly now. _

_So I shall now have to switch to my tactics to my one final option, one that I had hoped to avoid. Well, no matter. Whether through marriage or by force I shall have what I deserve: Highever, the teyrnship, the prestige and status that go with it all shall be mine. I will remain patient and vigilant and the opportunity will present itself. I will see the last of the Couslands go down with a whimper as they are finally forced into submission ... perhaps I shall allow my "friend" Bryce and "dear" Eleanor to watch as their descendants are slaughtered one by one ...? Ah, we shall have to wait and see on that, though the mere thought of it stimulates in ways I had not imagined._

_This all could have been avoided so long ago had my ancestors made better choices, had the Couslands not become involved in matters that did not concern them, had that Orlesian bitch__*****__ not stuck her head in where it did not belong and brought Eleanor and Bryce back together. Eleanor __would__ have been mine and __our__ sons would be in position to rule Ferelden with the iron fist that it requires. _

_Alas, things did not happen as they should, and it falls upon me to correct them. I shall have to plan carefully from here on out - no more reliance upon those who are not worthy. No one must know, not until it is absolutely necessary, and by then it will be too late ... for I __will__ have what is rightfully mine._

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_***A/N:**__ reference to __**We Do What Must Be Done**__._


	17. The Denerim Faire

_A very Happy Thanksgiving to all my friends, readers and lurkers in the United States, as well as to those of you who are not!_

_Thank you to the readers, reviewers and lurkers as well as those who set favs and alerts for this story including: Shakespira, Nithu, celtic-twinkie, MelRedux, Zeeji, TG2000, Xell-Piece, ProsePrincess, Piceron, jen4306, Erynnar and Liso66. Your support has been astounding and amazes me with each addition. _

_Thank you as always to my ever faithful betas: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__ without whom I would be very lost. Thank you my friends!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …._

_**A/N:**__ Musical inspiration: "Renaissance Faire," by Blackmore's Night, "Sweet Talkin' Woman" by ELO and "Does Your Mother Know" by ABBA._

_**Reminder:**__ coming up very soon (chapter 19 I think? Maybe 20) this story will shift it's rating upwards (I mean, come on … we all know what happens in game - it get's violent!). Make sure you get your alerts and such set so you can find the story easily! We have a VERY long way to go yet!_

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"What do you have on your schedule today, my darling?"

Eleanor's words over the breakfast table broke into Bryallyn's thoughts, leaving the younger woman no doubts as to what her mother was going to suggest if no plans had yet been made. Straightening as she worked on her meal of porridge, fruit and toast; Bryallyn replied, "Nathaniel and I were going to attend the Denerim Faire while you and father are at the Landsmeet." Bryallyn took a sip of tea then, hoping this would keep her mother from badgering her. The only reaction from her father was a soft chuckle as he watched the two women he loved most begin a verbal sparring match.

"Bryallyn, you and Nathaniel have been engaged for six months now," Eleanor chided gently. "We must start making progress with certain things if this wedding is ever going to take place!"

Bryallyn stole glance over at her father again, this time noting that the man was busy with his nose buried in reports. Clearly, he was not going to choose sides in this battle. "Mother, we have plenty of time," Bryallyn murmured.

"Darling, you have very little time left," Eleanor countered firmly. "Preparations take time, you know that, and we need to get started on your dress ..."

Bryallyn groaned softly. Fighting with a dressmaker was _not_ what she wanted to spend the day doing. Her mind grasping for some solution, for she really did not want to fight with her mother, she offered, "We will be here through the next week, yes?" She saw Eleanor nod. "Then schedule an appointment with whomever you think the best dressmaker will be for tomorrow or the day after or something ..." She saw her mother about to argue, and she added, "Or, if you'd rather, we can wait until we return to Highever?" When she heard Eleanor sigh heavily, Bryallyn took her chance to leave the room. She paused to kiss her father's cheek, and then her mother's, while whispering to Eleanor, "Thank you!" before dashing off to prepare for her day.

* * *

"So, where are we to meet this vision of loveliness who is your intended?" Devlyn asked as he led Delilah through the halls of the palace while following after Nathaniel.

Nathaniel ignored the man, for the ... He frowned. _How many times this morning?_ He had lost count. Sighing to himself, he simply walked on, his pace increasing and his strides lengthening as his irritation built.

"Dev, you really should be nice," Delilah admonished him lightly, the proximity of her voice telling Nathaniel that the pair had increased their steps to keep up with him. "Bry is very nice, as you well know, and your egging my brother on like this is only going to ruin our day at the faire."

Devlyn sighed dramatically, but winked at Delilah. "If you insist, my dear," he told her in an exaggerated whisper, "but it is so much more fun to tease him! You have to admit, it is enjoyable to watch him squirm ..."

Nathaniel ignored his sister's giggling and simply walked on. He and Bryallyn had agreed to meet near the doors exiting beside the Landsmeet hall before the four continued on to the Market District. They entered the final hall and started crossing it, Nathaniel's strides pulling him away from his companions. He came to a stop beside the doors, turning around to glance down the crossing hall, but did not see Bryallyn. Frowning, Nathaniel began walking down to his left, but did not get far before Devlyn and Delilah caught up with him.

"I'm sure she will be here shortly, Nate," Devlyn told him in all seriousness.

"We are early, you know," Delilah murmured while reaching out to place a hand on her brother's arm. "Have you checked outside yet? Could she be waiting out there?"

Nathaniel looked down at her and was about to answer when Devlyn interrupted to say, "Del, why don't you and I go and check. That way Nate can be here to intercept her if she arrives."

Sighing, Nathaniel nodded his agreement, if only to have a few moments of peace from his second's incessant teasing, which he knew would go on all day.

* * *

Bryallyn ran through the halls at a breakneck pace as she ducked and dodged the few servants she passed, her cloak trailing out behind her like the wake of a ship leaving port. _I'm late! _she panicked as she moved. _That's the last time I agree to help Fergus with something before I'm supposed to meet Nathaniel ... he did this on purpose!_

She made a sharp turn to her right, clamored down the staircase to the lower level, and then made a quick left. One more hall, to the right up ahead, and she would be at the doors ...

Leaning against the inner wall, Nathaniel heard rushed booted steps hurrying in his direction before he turned to see a grey blur heading in his general direction. He pushed away from the wall, his graceful frame moving to its full height, and stepped into her line of flight, reaching out to catch her around the waist and pull her to a stop against his chest. "Hi there," his deep voice rumbled in greeting.

Bryallyn gasped for breath while looking up. Giving him a huge smile, she leaned into the embrace he offered, her arms wrapping around his waist. "Sorry I'm so late!" she managed as she attempted to slow her breathing to normal once more. She leaned up and kissed him lightly. "Blame it on Fergus," she added a moment later as he moved to take her arm so they could head out of the building.

This caught Nathaniel's attention. "Oh really?" he queried. "Your brother having second thoughts about us at this late date, is he?"

Bryallyn laughed. "Well, you could blame me too, I suppose," she admitted. "Fergus asked me to 'assist' him with some correspondence that needed responding to. Fool that I am, I agreed." Her slender shoulders shrugged beneath his hands.

Nathaniel found that he was struggling to contain his mirth. Covering his amusement with a cough, he was not surprised when she elbowed him lightly in the stomach a moment later. With a growl of affection, he tucked her beneath his arm and turned her towards the door. "Shall we?" he asked as he led her towards the barricade. "Dev and Delilah are waiting outside."

Bryallyn nodded and quickly matched her steps to his. They exited the palace to find their friends waiting just at the bottom of the steps. Bryallyn smiled at Delilah before giving her friend a warm hug of greeting, and then laughed when Dev reached for her hand only to have Nathaniel quickly insert himself in between them so that his second would not begin one of his laboriously flamboyant greetings. "We know," he told Dev. "You are glad to see her." Bryallyn and Delilah exchanged a glance and began giggling uncontrollably. Nathaniel ignored the girls' reactions, taking Bryallyn's arm and tucking it through his own before he started to lead her away.

The walk between the palace district and the market district (the center of the Faire) was a short distance, relatively speaking, and they soon found themselves entering the square to find all sorts of new stalls, colorful banners, strolling entertainment and an ever growing crowd all gathered together. Bryallyn took a step closer to Nathaniel, feeling his arm move securely around her shoulders, which eased her quite a bit. She was a ranger, used to the wide open spaces of the lands around her, and found herself suddenly uncomfortable in these overly crowded surroundings. Nathaniel seemed to understand this, squeezing her arm lightly in support and recognition before he leaned over to whisper, "Just let me know if you want to leave."

Bryallyn chanced a quick glance up at him and smiled. "I will be all right for now," she said.

During their walk to the marketplace, the four had agreed to start their day by wandering around to see what vendors and entertainments had been provided for the event before making a firm plan of action. Now as they began examining the stalls, Bryallyn wondered how they would manage to see any of it without having to dash from one place to the next after only the briefest of stops. _So many things to see and do!_

When finally a plan of attack was settled upon, the couples decided to split up - Dev had found an armorer with whom he wished to speak and Delilah a fabric merchant, both of whom were on the northern end of the square while Nathaniel and Bryallyn had spotted some stalls to the south. "Why don't we plan to meet at the Gnawed Noble for lunch when the Chantry bells toll mid-day?" Nathaniel suggested. "Then we can decide from there where we will go."

Bryallyn remained close to Nathaniel as they wandered through the crowded paths in the direction of their first destination (he had not told her yet what it was). They were nearing the gates of the Arl of Redcliffe's estate when she heard a distinctive voice calling out, "Palms read, fortunes told! A copper fortells your future should you wish to know!"

Bryallyn paused in her step, feeling Nathaniel immediately do the same. She sensed his questioning gaze upon her as she searched for the source of the advertisement. Then, spotting a small stall set back to the side of an armorer's space, she pointed and said, "Could we?"

Nathaniel saw the excitement build in Bryallyn's eyes and suddenly found himself wondering if he would ever be able to deny her anything. "Bry, people make their own futures, it's not set in stone," he told her gently, attempting to reason with her, "or your palms."

Bryallyn managed to hold back a grin, seeing in his eyes that he wouldn't refuse this. "I know, but don't you think it would be fun? To see what she had to say and then see if any of it actually comes true?" she replied softly. "Please, Nathaniel? Just for a lark?" She saw his eyes roll and she could not help but release a soft chuckle. Leaning up towards his ear, she whispered, "Thank you, my love!" She heard his soft grumble coupled with a bit of a growl and her chuckle turned into a giggle as he placed a hand at her back and guided her over.

They found an older woman, Bryallyn guessed her to be about her mother's age, perhaps just a bit older, and dressed in a multitude of garish colors, textures and designs that on anyone else would seem ghastly, but on her seemed quite in character. Dark hair that was scattered with grey and pulled back into a single braided plait at the base of her neck, she wore long, dangly silver earrings and had several chains around her neck that had pendants, charms and other attachments. Piercing blue eyes looked up at their approach and focused almost exclusively on Bryallyn, almost to the point of causing the younger woman to stop her approach. But as Bryallyn might have done just that, the woman spoke with a raspy though pleasant sound and told her, "Please come forward. You are here to have your palms read, yes?"

At Bryallyn's nod, the woman gestured to a nearby crate beside a small table covered with a fabric that had various colors and designs woven into it. "Have a seat then," she said as she took her own, "and we shall get started."

As Bryallyn took the seat indicated, she felt a sudden nervousness overtake her. _Maker's breath_, she thought_, what is wrong with me? I'm behaving like a small child!_ She felt Nathaniel move behind her, his hand at her shoulder lending her some of his calm. At his touch, she felt herself relax, the influx of sudden feelings and emotions that had begun to overpower her fading away. "Which hand would you like to see?" she asked the woman.

"Place both upon the table," she was told, "palms up so that I may look at the both of them."

Bryallyn did so, wondering briefly how it was the woman could tell fortunes, yet not wanting to know at the same time. There was some sort of "magic" involved whether it be true magic like the mages at the Tower performed, or simply a familiarity with folk tales and ancient customs she did not know. Either way, Bryallyn was certain that she did not want to disrupt whatever it was and spoil the outcome.

Bryallyn watched as the woman began tracing the lines on small hands with gnarled, bony fingers. Though she expected that the light touch would tickle, it did not and she relaxed even more. After a short time in which she evaluated both hands, the fortune teller lifted her eyes and caught Bryallyn's gaze again. "You and your young man," she nodded up at Nathaniel, "are about to be married, yes? To join yourselves together for all eternity."

Bryallyn instinctively nodded, her body reacting of its own accord before she could stop it. The woman's eyes had closed, and she therefore didn't see the movement.

"There is joy ahead for you, and great sorrow ... a betrayal by one close to you ... a burden that must be borne ... You both will find great joy and happiness together, but it will have a sudden end ... your future endangered by another who promises one thing and does another ... be aware of the closeness of friends, yet rely upon the presence of strangers ... your role will reverse ... creatures dark and evil will oppose you; a greyish darkness will fill your blood ... but you will lead the way to the future and find a way to overcome ..."

Bryallyn felt her chest tighten at the words. When the woman blinked, her deep blue eyes opening once more, Bryallyn saw something there ... disappear, and a focus return. Her hands were still in the woman's grasp, until she suddenly released them. Bryallyn felt her knuckles rap against the wood of the table below the cloth. Though she was curious about the interpretation of what she had just been told, her first concern was for the fortune teller who looked as if she had seen a ghost. Leaning forward, Bryallyn asked, "Are you all right?"

The fortune teller took a few deep breaths before responding, "My pardon, my lady ... there are times when I encounter someone, such as yourself, who's bond with the future is so strong and overwhelming ... I beg your forgiveness if I have startled you ..."

Bryallyn glanced up at Nathaniel who simply shrugged. "I am fine," she reassured the woman. "Do you know what any of what you just told me means?" She saw a look of confusion cross the woman's face.

"I ... do not, I'm afraid," she responded hesitantly.

Hiding her own apprehension from the experience, Bryallyn rose to her feet and pulled several coppers from her coin pouch at her waist. Placing them on the table in front of her, she told the woman, "I think perhaps I may have caused you more fright than should be expected from such an experience. I do thank you for your time."

Nathaniel began to lead her away from the stall, but both were stopped by strong hands that grasped their arms. Turning, they found the woman beside them, a pleading look in her eyes. "A moment please," she begged, reaching to her neck and removing one of her pendants. Taking Bryallyn's hand in hers again, she settled the leather tie and its pendant there, murmuring, "it isn't much, but it could one day save you or yours. Keep it with you at all times, my lady!"

In the moment Bryallyn glance down at the gift and then back again, the woman had disappeared. "How odd," she murmured. "Where did she go?"

Nathaniel shrugged. "I didn't see her leave," he admitted a bit sheepishly. His attention too had been caught on the chain in Bryallyn's hand. "What is that she gave you?"

Bryallyn caught the edge of the leather thong and allowed the weight of the pendant to pull it out and straighten. Then, reaching for the pendant with her other hand, she lifted it so she and Nathaniel could see it clearly: the leather thong, resplendent with different colored beads scattered across it's length as well, held a decently weighted pendant in the shape of a tooth at its center. With a gasp, Bryallyn lifted the pendant closer so she could examine it in further detail. _Not a pendant of a tooth, a tooth turned into a pendant!__*****_ Glancing up at him, she murmured, "I know what this is!"

Nathaniel looked at her. "Is that really a wolf's tooth?"

Bryallyn nodded, shifting the cord so that she could slip it over her head. "Yes. It's called a _Feral Wolf Charm_," she explained. "My mentor told me about them years ago, but I've never seen them. There is talk that they are made through a certain ritual by the Chasind." Settling the pendant into place, she smiled up at him. "I wonder if she was Chasind or if she simply had found this through someone else."

"What is it supposed to do?" Nathaniel asked as he lifted the tooth to examine it a bit more closely.

Bryallyn closed her eyes for a moment to recall the words of her mentor. "Each one has slight differences I think," she told him, "but essentially it is a protection charm." She watched as Nathaniel released the pendant, allowing it to fall back into place. She sensed a hesitancy in his reaction, and she offered, "Do you not want me to wear it?"

Nathaniel chuckled softly and lifted his eyes to hers. "Not at all," he assured her. Though he had his doubts about the efficacy of such charms, he was not about to dissuade her if she believed in them. When she lifted a hand to touch the charm again, he grasped it in his and said, "If you want to wear it, Bry, wear it. It can't hurt, right?"

Bryallyn searched his eyes quickly, saw his honest reaction there and nodded. She allowed him to tuck her arm back around his as he continued, "Now, we should move on, don't you think? We have a schedule to keep before we meet up with Dev and Delilah."

Giving her intended one last, searching look, she smiled and nodded. "Right then. Let's go."

* * *

It was later that evening as she was preparing for bed that the words of the fortune teller came back to Bryallyn. As she settled beneath the covers, Constant lying on the floor beside her, the woman's raspy voice returned.

_... a betrayal by one close to you ... a burden that must be borne ... _

Bryallyn yawned and snuggled into her pillow. Most couples had burdens that had to be borne, she supposed. She'd certainly seen that often enough, even first hand with Fergus and Oriana's relationship. She found herself wondering at the betrayal bit, but she was too tired to give it anything but a cursory thought at that moment.

_... You both will find great joy and happiness together, but it will have a sudden end ... _

This caused a frown to crease Bryallyn's forehead, a bit of her earlier sleepiness fading. "Sudden end?" What could that mean?

_... your future endangered by another who promises one thing and does another ..._

Surely this wasn't referring to Nathaniel, she thought. Everything she had seen about him proved that he was a man of his word. No, there was another source for that ... but who?

_... be aware of the closeness of friends, yet rely upon the presence of strangers ..._

"Rely on the presence of strangers," she muttered. What did _that_ mean?

_... your role will reverse ... creatures dark and evil will oppose you; a greyish darkness will fill your blood ... _

Bryallyn heard a soft whoof from Constant and realized she was muttering again. "Sorry, boy," she told him, hearing the hound snuffle his acceptance of the apology.

_... but you will lead the way to the future and find a way to overcome ..._

Whatever the future would hold, Bryallyn thought at last, would have to wait until the morning to be determined. She was simply too tired to contemplate it all now.

* * *

_***A/N:**__ this is a reference to the Feral Wolf Charm pendant that was a DLC for those who pre-ordered DA:O at GameStop. Though I was not one of them, I came across a reference to this charm on the DA Wiki and it fit for what I had in mind._


	18. Almost There

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked as well as those who set favs and alerts including zaies, Liso66, Mireliambar, Miltonia, ProsePrincess and Shakespira. Thank you so very much for your comments! You continue to inspire me with this story!_

_Thanks as always to my fabulous betas without whom I would be so lost: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__. You ladies ROCK!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …._

_**A/N:**__ To all my fans in the US - I hope you had happy and safe Thanksgiving travels! _

_Also, to those who have not done so yet, the rating for this story is set to jump this FRIDAY, so make sure you have your alerts set so that you can find it easily!_

_**Song Inspirations:**__ "The Flame" by Cheap Trick, "Got My Mind Set On You" by George Harrison, and "Burning Love" by Elvis Presley._

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A week before the wedding, Bryallyn found herself wandering the battlements to Highever castle on the day that Nathaniel was to arrive. He had sent her a message ahead of his presence - to give her and her family warning. Ostensibly the message had been sent to make sure she was at the keep when he arrived this time, announcing that he and Devlyn would preceed the rest of his family. Bryallyn did not have to ask why. Instead, she had approached her mother, endured Eleanor Cousland's teasing remarks and then hurried off to direct the servants to assist her with preparation of her future husband's room and one for his friend and second, Devlyn Cashen.

Now, in the early hours of the day, after a very short night of rest, Bryallyn found herself pacing back and forth: nervous, excited, filled with dread and hope at the same time. She tried not to think about the butterflies in her stomach that seemed to increase in number with each passing moment. She did her best to ignore the burgeoning headache that was growing behind her eyes as well. Groaning softly to herself, she paused for a moment at the wall, dropping her forehead to meet the rough but cool stone. It felt good ... the cool hard surface did much to soothe the feverishness of her brow ...

"I thought I might find you up here," a familiar male voice called softly from the doorway.

Bryallyn didn't need to turn to know that it was her brother. With a smile to herself, she asked, "Were you looking for me Fergus?"

The elder Cousland chuckled and wandered over to his sister's side. He knew all too well the irony of the situation: had it not been about eight years prior that she had done the same for him as he awaited the arrival of his intended bride? "I thought you might like a familiar presence ... to keep you tethered to the rooftops as it were."

Laughing and standing straight as her brother tossed the same words back at her that she had used on him, she moved to his side and accepted the hug he offered. "Fergus, I -"

Fergus's deep chuckle was soothing in its familiarity. "I understand Bry," he told her as he hugged her close. "But, consider this as well: I have seen the relationship between you and Nathaniel develop in a way that Oriana's and mine did not. I know in some ways that probably makes everything a bit more ... intimidating, perhaps, possibly frightening. But, I can also tell you that mother, father, Oriana and I all believe he is the right match for you. We are truly happy for you."

Bryallyn noticed tears were rolling down her cheeks then and she hugged her brother again. "Thank you," she breathed into his tunic as she tried to draw strength from him. In the distance she could see the sun beginning to rise, though a chill remained in the air. Pulling her cloak closer to her slender frame, she stepped back and shuddered. "I am ... frightened a bit I suppose, excited, nervous ... all of that. I am afraid that once this," she swiped her hand out in front of her, encompassing the entire keep, "happens that what comes after will either be a huge let down, or that something dreadful will happen."

Fergus smiled indulgently, remembering his own experiences. "That will pass in time," he told her, "as you two become comfortable in the new aspect of your relationship. I know that doesn't help you much now, but ..."

"Riders approaching!"

Bryallyn's throat suddenly tightened at the cry of the gate guards below. Her head snapping back around to face the courtyard, she spotted the gates beginning to open and beyond that ... "Oh!"

Fergus laughed outright as his sister spun on her heel and began sprinting down the stairs towards the front of the castle. He followed behind, ready to catch her should she fall, though he knew given her roguish talents that would not be necessary.

As she ran through the keep, Bryallyn reached out and pulled the edges of her cloak close to keep from knocking things over. She saw her father coming out of the library, undoubtedly having been informed of the imminent arrival of his future son-in-law, heard him chuckle as she dashed past. "Slow down, Pup, he will wait for you!" Bryce called after her rapidly retreating form.

Bryallyn reached the doors to the front of the keep in record time, and began pushing one open, struggling only for the briefest of moments to get her shoulder positioned just right to get leverage against the heavy barricade ...

Nathaniel had just turned from dismounting, handing the reins of his steed to Devlyn, when he heard a soft cry and glanced up. His eyes widening, brightening, he struggled to keep a more serene expression on his features ... until she was standing in front of him, her eyes locked onto his, her love for him pouring out. Only then did he reach for her, wrapping his arms around her for a hug of welcome. Closing his eyes tightly for just a moment, he breathed in her unique scent of honeysuckle and lavender. "Bry!"

Bryallyn could not contain her grin any longer as she stepped back from him. Reaching for his hand, she secured it with hers and said, "Welcome to Highever, my lord." She watched him squirm for just a moment as she used the title, but then he smiled slightly, his usual somber look easing just a bit.

Fergus and Bryce both arrived in the courtyard then, adding their own greetings to Nathaniel. "Pup," Bryce started, "your mother is in the kitchens at the moment I believe. Why don't you go and ask her to join us in the great hall? I think your brother and I can escort this young man there."

Bryallyn's eyes widened for a moment, her father's intent clear. For a half a moment, she thought about refusing, but with a sideways glance at Nathaniel and a wink from him, she smiled softly and reluctantly agreed.

Nathaniel, followed closely by Devlyn, walked with the other men into the keep, noting as he did the changes since his last visit, most of which appeared to be cosmetic and were, he assumed, in preparation for the wedding to take place later in the week. Nathaniel responded politely to the teyrn's questions, occasionally initiating his own conversation. When they entered the great hall, they found Bryallyn and her mother entering from the door on the far side. Nathaniel approached the teyrna and greeted her with a brushing of his lips to her hand ... until she pulled him into a warm hug, murmuring, "You are practically family, dear boy!"

Greetings exchanged, Bryallyn finally managed to maneuver her intended away from the rest of her family on the suggestion of showing him to his room so that he could rest after such a long ride. Bryallyn led the way, knowing full well that Nathaniel had been to the castle enough times to find his own way, yet thankful for the excuse to escape the teasing of her family even for just a few moments of peace.

Once inside the room, Nathaniel set his things aside on the bed and reached for Bryallyn. Sighing in relief, she settled in his embrace, resting her head upon his shoulder as he wrapped his strong arms around her and pulled her close. "Oh, Nathaniel," she breathed, "how are we _ever_ going to get through this week?" His chuckle rumbled through his chest beneath her ear, offering her comfort.

"I'm not sure who will be worse," Nathaniel teased, "Fergus or your mother!"

Bryallyn sighed and laughed softly. "Don't forget my father," she chided gently. "He can be worse than the two of them put together. And then there's Dev ..." She buried her head into his shoulder again. "I swear, he is twice as bad as Fergus!"

Nathaniel chuckled and assured her, "I can keep him under control," before leaning down to kiss her. "One more week," he reminded her. "Are you certain you want to attach yourself to me for life? There is still time to back out, even at this late date."

Bryallyn's eyes lifted to his, her face suddenly somber and serious. "I have never been more certain of anything in my life," she whispered.

* * *

Bryallyn silently left the library, book in hand, and began her return journey towards her room. It was late, and she was having trouble sleeping. Not surprising, she realized, given the upheaval in her life at the moment. _Four days_, she thought. _Four more days and then we'll be together forever ..._

Though her thoughts were elsewhere, she sensed the movement in the shadows ahead of her and reached for her dagger just seconds before a hand clasped over her mouth, a second strong hand tightening on her upper arm and pulling her into the deeper shadows in the atrium. She struggled for just a moment, until a masculine whisper said, "Not too bad for a ranger ..."

Bryallyn almost hit him with her book, but Nathaniel was too quick and caught her wrist with his hand. Leaning forward, she let her lips tangle lightly with his. "Nathaniel ...," she breathed just moments before he deepened their connection, effectively silencing her.

Nathaniel felt her drop the blade and book, heard the soft sounds as they landed at their feet. Bringing his hands to her face, he tilted her head slightly so he could taste her fully. Groaning softly, he felt her arms slide around his waist, tightening her hold there.

Bryallyn pulled back a moment later, gasping for breath. Resting her head against his chest, she held him tightly, her arms locking behind his back. When he lifted a hand to her head, pressing it close to him, she smiled, knowing that this was indeed right, they were meant to be together.

* * *

Bryallyn exited the kitchens, Constant at her side. Sighing heavily, she muttered, "Can you not leave Nan alone for just a couple more days? We don't need her angry with us right now!"

The mabari whined sorrowfully and Bryallyn could only smile at him. Giving the hound a hand signal to tell him to find Oren to play, she watched him trot off, tongue lolling over the side of his mouth, an almost laughing sound being emitted. Shaking her head, she turned towards the left, choosing the pathway that led around towards the chapel. _Perhaps a few moments in silent meditation would help?_ She had been discovering as of late that as the date of the wedding approached, the more her nerves would begin to skitter and jump. She had taken to escaping to the chapel periodically in an effort to find a quiet place in which she could center herself, focus on the good that would come out of all of this.

When she entered the chapel, she found Mother Mallol kneeling in prayer. Deciding not to bother the priestess, Bryallyn took a seat on one of the benches nearby that had been moved into position for the ceremony to take place in two days. Closing her eyes, taking a deep breath, she centered her attentions and began her meditations.

Today, however, she was finding the focus difficult to find. Each time she thought she might be making progress, the pointy edge of a niggling doubt would prod it's way back …. _Oh Maker, what if Nathaniel changes his mind about us? What if I can't make him happy? _ _ What if …._

Nathaniel was leading his younger sister on a tour of the keep when he spotted Bryallyn heading off in the opposite direction. A soft laugh brought his attention back and Delilah teased him about the lack of attention he had been paying to her as of late. She giggled in delight when this caused him to blush. "Go after her, brother," she murmured tolerantly. "Perhaps she is headed to the chapel and you two can have a moment of uninterrupted peace."

Nathaniel did just that. When he entered the chapel, a small but nicely kept one, he found Bryallyn off to the left, her eyes closed in contemplation, and the priestess rising to her feet. Quickly, he stepped forward to offer the older woman his arm. "Thank you," she murmured gratefully. "Is there something I might help you with, young man?"

Nathaniel smiled. "No, Mother," he told her. "I have found her."

The priestess smiled gently, biting her lip to keep from grinning at him. "I would assume that is why we are having a marriage ceremony in two days," she replied. With a wink, she turned and left the room.

Nathaniel glanced over at Bryallyn then just in time to see her eyes open and lift to his. The smile she gave him was brilliant, filled with happiness and joy, and he could only wonder at how he was able to make that happen when most people thought of him as broody, even morose.

Bryallyn rose and moved to his side. "Are you here to escort me?" she asked, sliding her arm through his. She was finding that his presence was doing more to calm her at the moment than her attempts at meditating had.

"Perhaps, my lady," he replied, leading her out of the chapel. He saw her nod down the hall to the left in the direction of the great hall. Turning that way, they walked quietly, arm in arm.

Before entering the hall, Bryallyn stopped him and turned. "Thank you for finding me," she murmured, leaning forward to kiss his cheek.

As he watched her eyes, he realized she was referring to more than his arriving in the chapel just a few moments before. Without another word, she opened the door to the hall and led him inside.

* * *

Bryallyn lay in bed, curled into a ball, sobbing softly. Biting her lower lip, she wondered at what had come over her to possibly think that this arrangement would be anything but an unmitigated disaster. _What have I done?_ she thought. _It will be a catastrophe the likes of which no one has seen since Andraste's Exalted March!_

The soft sound of her door opening had Bryallyn lifting her head slightly ... to find the man behind all of her concerns stepping inside. "Nathaniel!" she gasped as she bolted up. She knew she looked a fright, that her face was stained with tears, her eyes swollen, her cheeks puffy.

Nathaniel crossed to the empty side of her bed, sliding beneath the covers and pulling her close to him, holding her, rubbing her back, soothing her. The moment his hand touched her, he felt her start crying again, and by the time she was leaning against his chest, his shirt was half damp. "Hush, Bry," he told her. "Everything will be just fine."

"H-how?" she sobbed. "I - I can't -"

Nathaniel lifted a finger to her lip. Then, tilting her head up towards his, he asked softly, "Do you trust me?" He saw her nod immediately. "Then know this: everything will be fine. I promise." He pulled her closer, held her tightly and continued to rub her back with his hand.

Bryallyn felt the fears that she had been fighting all evening dissipate at his touch. Taking long moments to simply soak up the attention, the love, the concern he had for her, she soon found herself drifting off to sleep.

Before giving in completely, she managed, "Who?"

Nathaniel stirred slightly at her softly voiced question. "Who what?"

"Who sent you?"

Nathaniel chuckled. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he returned. He felt her stirring, and rather than having her wake up further, he told her, "It was your mother and father ... after a rather interesting discussion regarding the early days of their relationship."

Bryallyn frowned. "What?"

"I will tell you later," he promised, moving a hand to the base of her neck and rubbing gently there. "Suffice it to say that both believe you to be very much like your mother, and were afraid you might be having ... second thoughts.*****"

Bryallyn shook her head. "Not ... second thoughts ...," she managed, sliding her arms around his chest.

Nathaniel knew the moment she gave in to sleep, but he did not release her. Instead, he adjusted his position on the bed, and lay down beside her, still holding her close, keeping her calm and restful. Soon, he too was asleep.

Some time later, as gently as possible, Eleanor Cousland woke her future son-in-law. With a smile of thanks, she whispered, "You still have time to get back to your room before people start stirring." When he was standing beside her, Eleanor kissed his cheek. "Thank you, dear boy," she told him.

Nathaniel smiled. Kissing her cheek in return, he murmured softly, "I'm glad I could help."

As he left the room, Eleanor adjusted the blankets around her daughter's sleeping form and smiled, knowing now for certain in her own mind that Nathaniel was nothing like his father. "You have yourself a keeper there, darling girl," she whispered as she neared the door.

* * *

_***A/N:**__ reference back to __**We Do What Must Be Done.**_


	19. Wedding Bells

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked as well as those who set favs and alerts including: HeatMiser1926, jenncgf, Liso66, celtic-twinkie, Shakespira, Sisimka, Piceron, MelRedux, Miltonia, Erynnar and Evalynne._

_Thanks to my wonderfully supportive betas: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__. Thank you my friends! I am honored to have your help with this project! _

_I had intended to do a oneshot tied in with Nate's decision below (I'm __**not**__ giving it away just yet! ;) ), and I may still do it, but I will not have it up any time soon. This was created after some discussion with friends over on the Warden's Vigil boards ... and, come on, you have to admit it certainly adds a bit of ... he he he ... you'll see! ) Enjoy!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N:**__ Songs: (obviously) "White Wedding" by Billy Idol, "Under a Violet Moon" by Blackmore's Night, "You Are the One" by A-ha._

_**Remember:**__ as of this Friday, the story will jump to an M rating (I'm sure you can guess why by now)! Make sure you can find it! =)_

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* * *

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Bryallyn stood before the mirror staring at her reflection. _Can this really be me?_ she wondered in amazement. _How can it? I feel so … different from who and what I see …._

A light touch upon her arm caused Bryallyn to pull her gaze from the mirror and turn it upon her friend. "You look lovely, Bry," Delilah told her as she reached up to adjust one of the brightly colored ribbons hanging from Bryallyn's headpiece. Her hair had been left hanging loose and below her waist, the curls had been brushed until they shone and twisted around the ribbons. The sides were swept back, twisted into a long plait that trailed down the center and ended about her waistline.

Delilah had been with Bryallyn, at her brother's request, since early that morning when both women had risen and taken the breakfast that Nan had brought to the bride's room. Delilah had specific instructions (which she had found amusing coming from her brother) to keep Bryallyn's nerves calm, assist her with dressing and styling her hair and arranging all of her accoutrements, and just simply being her friend. "It will seem strange to have a sister after all of these years," Delilah continued as she smoothed out the skirt to Bryallyn's dress. Then with a grin and a mischievous glint in her eyes, she added, "But it will be nice to have assistance in teasing my brother!"

Bryallyn laughed lightly, but the majority of her focus was still upon the reflection in the mirror. She lifted a hand to touch her neckline where she was wearing the badger pendant that Nathaniel had given her before his departure for the Free Marches. She had removed the charm that the fortune teller had given her in Denerim six months before (all safe and packed away in her belongings for later), but this was one she refused to remove before the ceremony.

Delilah stepped forward then, moving into the reflection so that Bryallyn could see her. She too had dressed nicely, her shoulder length dark hair pulled back at the sides, a garland of flowers with a few ribbons hanging from it also adorning her head. Her smile was what Bryallyn noticed first. "The dress is gorgeous," Delilah told her softly, her eyes lowering to the cream colored silk edged in blue and silver (Cousland) and dark green and golden yellow (Howe) embroidery around the neck and the hem. "But I think you might consider wearing this as well?"

Bryallyn glanced up to her friend to see Delilah lifting a long swath of patterned wool, again in both the Cousland and Howe colors folded in half so that it was about six inches wide. Delilah settled the sash at Bryallyn's left shoulder where she used a silver pin in the shape of the Cousland laurel leaves to hold it in place. Then pulling the ends together at Bryallyn's lower right hip, she fastened the two tails together with another silver pin, this one of the bear of house Howe. "There. What do you think?"

Bryallyn felt quick tears forming in her eyes, and it was a struggle to keep them from falling and smearing the light cover of make up she was wearing. "Oh, Del … you didn't have to -"

Delilah grinned and hugged Bryallyn. "Yes, my friend, I did," she replied as the door to the room opened behind them. "And the plaid turned out quite well if I do say so myself!"

"It's beautifully done, Delilah," Eleanor Cousland announced as she entered the room, "and it is quite fitting for today's festivities." Nodding at Delilah, the younger woman turned to leave the room leaving mother and daughter alone. Moving to stand behind her daughter, Eleanor's smile appeared in the mirror. "Are you ready darling?"

Bryallyn took a deep breath and nodded. "I am," she breathed softly, her eyes locked onto her mother's in the reflective glass. Smiling, she turned and faced her mother.

The door opened again then, and Bryce Cousland entered. Bryallyn saw the look of surprise on her father's face as he took in her appearance. "Papa?" she called softly, using the term for him that she often used when they were alone.

Bryce crossed to his daughter's side immediately and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "My fierce girl … all grown up and about to become someone's wife." He sighed. "Ah, Pup, there are days you make me feel like a very old man … but your mother and I are incredibly happy for you and Nathaniel."

Bryallyn blushed a bit, but she did smile first at her father and then her mother. "Thank you," she murmured, and sincerely hoped that they understood that she meant for far more than the wedding ceremony in which they were about to participate.

Straightening, Bryce cleared his throat and said, "Right then … shall we go?" he offered his daughter his arm first, and then his wife the other and together they maneuvered their way through the keep to the chapel.

* * *

Nathaniel stood at the front of the chapel waiting. From the moment Fergus and Devlyn had escorted him down from his room, he'd been searching deep for his training and skills involving patience and calm … and _patience_. Not so much to get him from that moment in time until the start of the ceremony, but to get him beyond the banter and snickers of his companions who, like he, were dressed in kilts made of the plaid that Delilah had woven, worn in the style of their ancestors dating back to King Calenhad's time.

The idea had come to him months before, shortly after Bryallyn had agreed to marry him. They had spent an afternoon in the Cousland library with Bryallyn instructing him on the Cousland family history, when he had come across an artist's rendition of one of the long ago battles. Nathaniel had found the idea of wearing the plaid interesting, particularly when Bryallyn, unknowing of his intentions, had expressed interest in the picture. Thus guaranteed (or so he hoped!) of success, Nathaniel had approached Delilah.

Aligning himself with his sister to create the plaid that was a mixture of the colors of both families, Nathaniel then set about convincing his future brother-in-law (which in itself was a battle to behold) and his second (Dev swore that he would get back at him later) to wear them as well. The colors worked well with all three men involved, and they sported white tunics tucked beneath the plaid, black vests with a white rose attached, and dark leather boots. When Nathaniel had found Fergus and Dev that morning after they had dressed, the two had started the day by giving Nathaniel a hard time about his choice, but Nathaniel could tell by what they both did and did not say that they were not really opposed to the idea.

Now, as he ran through his training once again to find the peace and calm that he needed as he waited, he glanced at his two friends. Dev was, well, typical Dev in that he was joking with and telling amusing stories to little Oren and his mother as they sat to the side while Fergus spoke with the Arl and Arlessa of Amaranthine. Nathaniel scanned the rest of the guests which included Banns, Arls and other nobles of varying levels of society. He noticed on the far side of the room the representative sent by King Cailan and Queen Anora. He also spotted Bann Teagan, whom Fergus had introduced him to the evening before, speaking with Bann Alfstanna. Nathaniel shook his head a moment, silently wondering when this event had taken on such grand proportions, though he suspected that his bride had argued against it.

Nathaniel's gaze was caught by a movement at the doorway and he turned to spy his sister entering. Delilah spoke to the musicians who were purposely located near the door, and soon the soft strains of music could be heard over the quiet rustling of guests taking their seats. Nathaniel watched as Delilah looked quickly in his direction, grinned at him, and then moved to her position. Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Nathaniel glanced up to his right to see Fergus nudging him forward. "Time to begin," he said quietly.

For the briefest of moments, Nathaniel felt an unfamiliar and inexplicable wave of panic, but he squashed the feeling and moved into position, turning to face the doorway … and his future.

* * *

There was a moment, right after Mother Mallol announced that they were husband and wife, when Bryallyn felt as if time stood still. She stared up at Nathaniel, saw he was feeling it too. Their hands closed together, the ceremonial ribbon wrapped around them signaling their joining as one ... and then time began to speed up once more, the sounds of clapping and murmurings of the gathered guests heightened in the small chapel at the estate.

Bryallyn smiled slightly as Nathaniel's left arm slid around her shoulders, dropping to her waist while his right hand still held hers tightly before he began leading her down the aisle and out the door. They followed the pathway to the great hall where they had been told by Bryce and Eleanor to head after the ceremony. Once inside the room, for the brief moment that they had alone, Nathaniel spun her around and pulled her to him, kissing her fiercely, deeply, longingly. Bryallyn nearly collapsed against him, her own emotions running high. And then, in the moments before the door opened once more to allow the guests entrance, she pulled him towards the end of the room near the hearth where they were to greet them.

The festivities were complete that day with good music, better food and welcome company. Aside from the families of the bride and groom, an assortment of nobles from around Ferelden were in attendance. Bryallyn sincerely hoped that she and Nathaniel would be allowed to leave soon, though, for all of the noise and the overcrowded feel of the hall was making her feel faint. At one point, she had to step outside of the hall jiust to get a good, deep breath of fresh air.

She was leaning her back against the wall when the door opened once more. Turning, she found herself face to face with her father-in-law, Rendon Howe. Swallowing hard, for she had no love for this man, only his son, she greeted him, "Good afternoon, my lord."

Rendon Howe straightened his posture, staring down the length of his nose at Byrallyn. "Ahh," he acknowledged her, his nasal tone grating on her nerves. "There you are. I hope your absence from the party is not an indication of your sudden change of mind regarding your joining with my son?"

Bryallyn shook her head, wondering why this man always had to turn everything, even the most innocent gestures, into something more negative. "I stepped out for a moment only," she explained, "for a bit of fresh air." Rising to her full height, she nodded at the doorway. "I was about to return."

Bryallyn watched the man survey her, his beady eyes narrowing upon her. Bryallyn barely managed to contain a shudder at his overly familiar liberties. "I honestly have to wonder at him sometimes," the Arl murmured.

Bryallyn frowned. "Nathaniel?" She saw him nod. "How do you you mean, my lord?" she couldn't refrain from asking.

The man sniffed, locking his gaze with hers. "Why, in choosing you, of course. What stroke of genius could have possessed him, I wonder?" A moment later, his hand lifted one of hers so that he could pat it with the other. He continued quietly as he began opening the door, "You should enjoy it while you can, young lady. You never know how long these things will last ..."

Having just stepped back into the room with his last comment, Bryallyn found that she had to school her emotions so that the others in the room would not notice her upset. _What a peculiar thing to say to a newlywed, particularly your son's wife!_ Seconds later, she felt a hand at her elbow and glanced up to find Nathaniel standing there, a worried expression crossing his features. "Problems?" he queried as they both watched the Arl cross the room to speak with one of the other nobles. Bryallyn lifted an eyebrow in question and he clarified, "I saw the expression on your face as you walked in. I know how he can be."

Bryallyn smiled softly to herself and leaned into his comforting presence for just a brief moment. "Later," she promised. Noting then he had an expectant, if wary look on his face, she asked, "What is it?"

"They are wanting us to dance," he said softly, for her ears only.

Bryallyn gasped softly. _NO!_ Closing her eyes tight, she groaned. She thought back to the promise she had made Nathaniel when they first began discussing the wedding. Since then, Bryallyn had told her mother repeatedly that this was not to happen! "Nathaniel -" she lifted her eyes to his, pleading with him to understand.

Nathaniel actually chuckled as he led her out onto the now rapidly clearing floor. "I know you said you would take care of it," he said softly, "just as I know it was probably at someone else's insistence that we are being forced to endure this." Placing his right hand firmly at her waist and taking her hand in his left, he winked at her. "I had Delilah teach me more of the steps... and I paid off the musicians to play our song ..." ******

Bryallyn smiled through sudden tears as she recalled the song that they had danced to in the shadows of the garden at Cailan's coronation and wedding. As the music began to flow, she felt the slight pressure of his hand against her waist and they started to move to the beat of the music. The longer the song went on, the more sure their steps, the more unified their movements became. Spins, twists, turns ... all of it Nathaniel led her through, his confidence obvious and clear to all bystanders who were participating with the clapping and shouts that accompanied the tune.

By the end of the song, as they separated and began catching ragged breaths, grinning almost wildly at each other in reaction, Bryallyn felt sure that Nathaniel had been the one to set this up, not her brother. "Show off!" she hissed at him, but tempered the words with an affectionate squeeze of his hand. Laughing aloud, Nathaniel pulled her close and led her off the dance floor where others were beginning to move into place for the next song.

* * *

When finally noting a moment to escape the festivities, Nathaniel looked across the room towards his bride and nodded towards the door. He watched her ease her way out of the room, giving her a few minutes to make her way to her room where she would change. A short time later he made his exit from the room and after a brief conversation with the Teyrn, Nathaniel hurried off in the same direction.

Almost silently, he slipped into the room, finding Bryallyn sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling on her boots. She had chosen to dress in her armor as they were going to be traveling to one of her father's hunting lodges near the coast. As she stood, reaching across the bed for her pack, Nathaniel slipped out of the shadows and caught her around her waist. He heard her cry out softly, and he squeezed gently. She soon was laughing and smiling up at him. They kissed briefly before he took her pack from her, she reaching for her weapons, before they exited the room.

They paused only briefly at the door to the room he had been using for the past week in order for him to do the same. In between laughter, mostly in relief that they were finally married, and occasional kissing, Nathaniel finally managed to don his own leathers and weapons. Taking his pack as well, he followed Bryallyn down the hall and through a side passage that she assured him led out a secret exit of the castle. From there it was a short distance to the stables where they found Nathaniel's horse already saddled and ready to depart. Additionally, Bryallyn found her mother's newest steed, Osprey, saddled for her. "The Teyrna said you was to take him, m'lady," the stableboy announced to Bryallyn. "She said you was the only one other than her who can ride him and on your wedding day you was to have the best."

Nathaniel gave her a look and Bryallyn blushed. "What can I say?" she told him. "I have a way with stubborn animals."

Nathaniel chuckled as he attached her pack to Osprey and gave her a leg up. "Definitely the big brutes, I see," he teased.

Bryallyn rolled her eyes, but replied, "Yes, well, we can discuss that later," she told him.

Just moments later, they were riding out of the stables. Before turning out the gates of the castle, Bryallyn glanced over her shoulder to see her parents standing at the top of the stairs. She felt Nathaniel pull to a halt beside her, giving her time to make her goodbyes. With a slightly tearful smile and a wave, returned by both Bryce and Eleanor, Bryallyn nodded at her husband who led them out through the gates and into their married journey together.

* * *

**A/N: **** the song is _Under a Violet Moon_ by Blackmore's Night


	20. New Beginnings

_Story rating boost to M here for a very good reason! Probably NSFW, but then I think we all know what comes after the wedding! )_

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those setting alerts and favs including: Shakespira, jenncgf, Gates-of-Valinor, Evalyne, jen4306, Miltonia, Liso66, Grannah, Zeeji, CUattheraces, ProsePrincess and Piceron._

_Thanks as always to my fabulous betas: __**MireliAmbar, VioletTheirin, Blightsworn**__ and __**Erynnar**__ without whom I'd be completely lost!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ….._

_**A/N:**__ Musical inspiration from: "Take It Off" by The Donnas, "The Flame" by Cheap Trick (one of my all-time favorite romantic songs)__, "All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You" by Heart, "I Was Made For You" by Martin Page._

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Bryallyn knew the location of the hunting lodge from years of visitations with her parents. Nathaniel, she suspected, had been briefed by her father during the previous days, just in case they should become separated during their journey. Thankfully, the trip was a short one, and uneventful.

They arrived just as the sun was beginning to fall behind the treeline, darkening their surroundings to a point where they would have had to stop for the night anyway. The "hunting lodge" was not nearly so large or grand as Highever Castle, but it was big enough to require a small staff who had been alerted of their impending arrival.

Their horses taken by the stableboy, Dylan, and the gameskeeper, Sanderson, Bryallyn led her husband of only a few hours inside to meet Sanderson's' wife, Anna. The woman always reminded Bryallyn of Nan back at Highever, and she soon had Nathaniel feeling the most relaxed he'd felt in weeks. She urged them to change into something comfortable and then meet in the small dining room where she laid out a small meal, at Bryallyn's personal request, including a luscious venison stew, fresh bread, mead and a desert of rice pudding. After serving the two newlyweds, Anna informed them that she would be retiring to the gamekeeper's cabin located on the far side of the stables, to leave them in peace.

And then they were alone. Bryallyn noticed the moment that Nathaniel realized this. She'd been watching him closely, as she always did. Ever since meeting him, she had been and was still fascinated by the strength and hidden grace of his hands; the way his brow would furrow when he was trying to work something out in his head, or the lithe, cat-like movements he would make as he walked. When he glanced over at her now as she was sipping her mead, he pushed his plate to the side, settling his hand on the table between them, palm up, silently asking a question. With a shy smile, Bryallyn reached out with her own hand and felt his gently closing around it.

Patiently, Nathaniel kept his gaze upon her, waiting for her to look up at him. When she finally did so, he stood up from the table, pulling her up beside him, into his arms and holding her close for a long moment.

Bryallyn felt her breath leave her in a rush when he lowered his head to hers. She ached for this man, had been aching for him for years, ever since they had met in the gardens at the royal Palace in Denerim so many years before. Only in the past few years or so, since he had admitted his feelings for her and she for him, had she come to realize the full extent of her emotional attachment to him.

Lifting his head from hers at long last, Nathaniel gave her a gentle smile and turned to lead her towards their bedroom in the back of the lodge, now sporting a hearty blaze in the hearth and enough light that candles would not be needed. Inside the room, he closed the door and led her over to a nearby chair. He could see her nervousness in the depths of her eyes, the trembling of her hands and the way she caught her lower lip between her teeth, though she was doing her best not to show it at all.

Deciding to give her a moment of peace to collect herself, Nathaniel walked over to his pack, stored along the far wall near the hearth. Inside, he deftly reached for the box he'd placed in there weeks before. Grasping it firmly, he pulled it out of the bag and closed his hand around it. Rising back to his feet he turned slowly, leaning against the wall and watching Bryallyn as she sat upon the chair, her legs now drawn beneath her, her gaze staring distantly into the fire. Slowly, as if being careful not to startle a wild animal, Nathaniel straightened and walked over to her side. He knelt beside her, easing himself into a seated position upon the floor.

Bryallyn was only slightly startled by his actions. "Nathaniel, you don't need to sit on the floor ..."

Nathaniel smiled, glancing up to her now concerned features. "This is fine," he assured her. His right leg bent so that he could rest his arm upon his knee, he cocked his head to the side and murmured, "I've thought about this day for a long while now."

Bryallyn turned her attention away from the fire and solely upon him. "So have I," she returned softly. "There was a time when I thought perhaps you were not interested in anything beyond simple friendship."

Nathaniel couldn't keep the harsh laughter from escaping his lips. Looking up into her greenish-brown gaze, he admitted, "There was a time I wasn't sure you would think me worthy of your attention."

Bryallyn gasped at this. Sitting up, she slid to her knees on the floor in front of him. "Why, Nathaniel?" she asked while moving to sit beside him. "Why would you think that?"

Sighing, Nathaniel felt her arm slide around his shoulders. For the first time since he had proposed to her, she was voluntarily touching him. Leaning back against her touch, he smiled softly to himself as he felt her adjust her position so that were touching, but facing each other as well. "Perhaps because almost from the moment we met, I've been able to think of no other woman than you? Because I wanted you in my life so badly, I was afraid ..."

Bryallyn blushed, her eyes dropping to her lap where her hands were folded together.

Reaching out, Nathaniel took her left hand in his, lifting it to his lips. "That does not mean that I did not hope, however ..."

Bryallyn's gaze shot back to his, seeing the truth there. "You were so different from the others," she told him as she lifted the hand to his face, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingers before moving to touch loose strands of his long, dark hair that had come free from the braids pulling back, tucking the pieces behind his ear. She watched as he turned his cheek into her touch, until her palm was cupping it. "I remember thinking when we met that you were so ... quiet. When all the others wanted to brag and boast, you remained silent, almost broody."

Nathaniel pulled her hand down to his own, replying simply, "You have met my mother and father. Is it any wonder I was a moody soul?"

Bryallyn's instantaneous reaction was to smile quickly, but she managed to pull it back. However, she noted by his grin that he'd seen it. "You know, I do include your brother in that group," she pointed out.

Nathaniel's chuckle caused her smile to return then. "Yes, I would include Thomas with that bunch of braggarts," he agreed easily. He began rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. "My father is happier with that type of behavior. I, however, am not."

Bryallyn was about to speak when she felt something sliding down the finger on the hand that Nathaniel held. Frowning, for whatever it was felt cool, she glanced down. She could not refrain from gasping at the sight. "Nathaniel, what have you done?" she breathed, lifting her hand slightly, but not pulling it from his grasp.

"I picked these up in the Free Marches before I came home. It is a Tevinter wedding ring, made of silverite; the design is a never ending knotwork chain, called _Infinity."_ He traced the pattern with his finger along the back of her hand so that she could see what he meant. "The Tevinters would make these for couples to wear to show they were bound together forever; heart, mind, soul." Lifting her hand to his lips, he added, "I thought it might be something to remind you that what I feel for you - now, at this moment, and ever forward - is eternal."

"You saw my parents' rings ...!" Bryallyn thought of the rings Bryce and Eleanor had exchanged back when they had married, the design another never ending chain but of leaves and vines*****.

Nathaniel smiled. He had indeed seen the rings and, though not the common style of the nobility in Ferelden, he knew that it symbolized much more than the simple union between the Teyrn and his wife. Leaning forward now, Nathaniel easily switched positions so that he could hold her hand as he placed another matching ring into her palm. He watched as recognition settled on her features, her fingers closing around the band and placing it between her fingertips and thumb. He watched her as she focused on sliding the band onto his own finger. Once completed, he grasped her hand with his, wrapping his long fingers around her own ... and pulled her close so he could kiss her.

Bryallyn felt herself falling against him, landing upon his chest as he leaned back to the floor. At the same time, he pulled her head down to connect with his, beginning the delightful dance he'd started teaching her so many months before. As they touched, their tongues colliding, their breath mingling together, he lowered a hand to the hem of the tunic she wore and slid his hand beneath.

Bryallyn felt his calloused fingers against her skin and shuddered at the light, fluttery sensations he was causing. Instinctively, she tried to pull away from him, but he used his other hand at her waist to keep her in place. When she finally was able to pull back to catch her breath, she felt him roll over, pulling her beneath him, resting his weight on arms well muscled from his years of training. Bryallyn lifted her eyes to find his. She saw his intentions there, knew she wanted it as well. Nodding slightly, she watched as he smiled, gentle and caring, before moving to unlace the closure at the neck of her tunic.

Bryallyn watched his stormy grey eyes as Nathaniel focused on the job at hand. Smiling to herself, she licked her lips unconsciously ... then realized an instant later that such an action with him that close was a sure-fire method to having him kiss her again.

This time as their lips touched, Nathaniel used the distraction to his advantage. When she pulled away moments later to catch her breath, he moved quickly, shifting her so that he could slide the tunic up and over her head and arms. By the time she realized what he had done, it was too late. When he glanced into her eyes again, he expected to see surprise, hesitation ... and found the exact opposite. When he opened his mouth to speak, he suddenly felt her slender fingers moving beneath the material of his tunic.

Bryallyn had noted earlier that Nathaniel had loosed the closure to his own tunic, presumably because he, like her brother and father, did not like the tight, choking feeling of material closed around their throats. She now saw his surprise at her reaction to him, and when he sat up to remove the garment, she found her opening. Bolting up, she moved to kneel in front of him. She waited for him to lift the material over his head and in that transition period when his vision was blocked, she moved forward to strike ...

Nathaniel barely managed to keep from crying out as her lips and tongue made contact with his skin. Yanking fiercely, heedless to any damage to his shirt or pulling at his hair, he removed the garment and reached for her.

Bryallyn was ready for him and moved towards him as he stretched his arms out for her. Stradling his legs and hips, she sat on his lap and moaned softly as his lips began tracing a path around her neck, eventually lowering to her breasts. She felt his hands at her back, grasping the drawstring to her breast band and yanking once hard to loosen it. Moments later, he had it off, his hands now able to touch her lightly, firmly, kneading. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she caught her breath as he leaned down to use his tongue on her the way she had him ...

At Bryallyn's hoarse, gasping cry, Nathaniel smiled against her skin. He had been waiting for this for so long. To hear her voice echo the cries from his own haunted dreams was more pleasurable than he could have ever imagined.

Bryallyn tightened her arms around his shoulders, holding him to her. Although she was still nervous, the delights that he was introducing her to were more than enough to keep any fear at bay. She had heard servant girls talk, her mother and Nan had each pulled her aside at separate times to discuss what would occur on her wedding night. Bryallyn had a brief moment to think that they certainly couldn't have known about something as enjoyable as this ...

Nathaniel lifted his head, staring down into her eyes, seeing the effects of his attentions as her gaze softened. He pulled himself up on his knees, towering over her only slightly now. Slowly, he rose to his feet, pulling her up with him. There, in front of the warmth of the fire, the minimal light, he lowered her remaining clothing and could not hide the smile turning up at his lips at the sight of her before him.

Bryallyn stepped out of the pile of clothing at her feet, and took a step towards him. Nathaniel grasped her hands as she reached for the closure to his breeches, whispering, "Not just yet." Glancing up at him, she read the battle taking place behind his eyes, and nodded almost imperceptibly. She stood still as he began running his hands all over her body, his fingers setting her skin aflame where he touched. When he reached her face, he pulled her close to kiss her yet again, and Bryallyn took that opportunity to lower her hands once more to the closure of his pants.

Nathaniel knew he had to be getting her to a point where she would be comfortable and allowed her to loosen the ties that held his trousers up. As her fingers skimmed along his waist, he sucked in a harsh breath and was a bit astonished at the very soft and very female chuckle he heard coming from her. Pulling his lips from hers for a moment, he caught her hands and murmured, "You are a saucy minx, my wife!"

Bryallyn felt him lift her into his muscled arms then, carrying her over towards the bed. "Only because you make me so, my husband," she returned. When he set her upon the bed, she moved to her knees quickly, now brought almost the same exact height as he. Again she reached for the waist of his trousers and began to lower the material, her fingers skimming along his waist and hips as she did so.

Groaning at the sensation of touch, Nathaniel stepped back quickly and removed the clothing himself. Eyeing her carefully now, he saw curiosity mixed with nervousness, but then he smiled as he watched her reach out with her left hand, waited patiently for him to grasp it with his right, and then pulled him back towards her.

Taking a brief moment to survey him as he had her, she smiled. She lifted her hands to his chest, lightly furred and very well muscled. She felt him shudder as she ran her fingertips through the hair there, and wondered at his reaction. He didn't react as if it tickled, she realized, though she did hear a soft growl from deep inside his chest as it rumbled at her touch. For some reason, pride she thought might be the right one, this made her smile. With an unknowingly seductive grin, she began backing up on the bed, tugging his hand to pull him with her.

Nathaniel joined her on the bed, laying back onto the pillows and pulling her down half on top of him, half beside him. Lifting his hand to her shoulder, he began touching her again. He loved the silken texture of her skin as his calloused fingers moved over her arms, her shoulders, trailing down her neck and chest and beyond. She had loosed her braid as well, and her dark curls were cascaded over her right shoulder.

Bryallyn felt the now familiar flames licking across her skin at his touch as he explored her body and urged her over onto her back. Once she was looking up at him again, she watched his head lowering again ... "Nathaniel!" she gasped as he began teasing her breasts once more.

Nathaniel chuckled against her as he continued moving his fingers over her body while he teased her with his tongue. When he reached his destination this time, he moved his head back to capture her lips, swallowing her cry as his fingers teased and touched her where no other ever had. Bryallyn's eyes closed at the exquisiteness of the sensations he was drawing from her then. Her breathing becoming increasingly ragged, she pleaded, "Nathaniel - please!"

Nathaniel caught her gaze with his own. He saw the desire there, the love for him, the utter desperation as her body searched for a fulfillment it had never known before. He rolled over her, lifting himself onto his arms again, taking most of his weight there. Slowly, he moved towards her, sliding his body against hers, allowing her to feel him all over. He watched her eyes shoot open in alarm for a moment, but when they settled upon his face, the look relaxed once more. "Bry -"

Lifting her arms to wrap around his neck again, she told him softly, "I know what happens next, my love. It has to happen. I am ready."

Nathaniel shuddered then, suddenly feeling an overwhelming responsibility that he had not quite expected. A moment later, he felt her hand at his cheek, her voice pleading, "Please, my love ..."

Bryallyn adjusted her position for her husband, allowing him to move closer to her. She focused on the feelings she had been experiencing up to that point, watched as he lowered his head and began kissing her again: her forehead, her cheek, the line of her chin, trailing a path down from her neck to he breasts yet again ... This time, she expected the sensation of his mouth pulling her breast beyond his lips, she didn't jump as she had before as his teeth scraped against the skin. As for herself, she began entangling her fingers into his hair. She felt his hand at her waist, holding her, helping her ...

Nathaniel heard her sharply inhaled gasp and winced slightly at the thought that he had intentionally caused her pain, though he knew it had to happen. He'd decided to move quickly, in one sharp thrust so that the worst of the pain would be over immediately. Now as he settled in the cradle of her hips, he ran his eyes over her face, searching for the moment when she would ...

Bryallyn exhaled through her nose slowly, a trick she'd overheard one servant girl telling another about, and found herself pleasantly surprised that it had helped. Grasping her lower lip between her teeth then, she tilted her head to look up into Nathaniel's eyes, nodding as she began moving against him.

Nathaniel saw her eyes widen then. He understood at that moment that the worst of the encounter was over, and she was now focusing on what came next. Swallowing, he moved slowly, prepared to stop for her if she should ask ...

Bryallyn gasped at the sensations he was causing. Her breath speeding up then, she nodded at him, whispering, "Oh, Nathaniel!" She grasped his shoulders then, her nails scraping along his skin as the sensations started rolling through her body.

"Look at me!" he breathed harshly, watching as her eyes snapped towards him. He could see the tension filling her, felt it as her body tightened against and around his. Picking up his rhythm, he watched her go over the edge, heard her cry of abandonment echo throughout the room and his own matching it as he finally gave himself to her completely, making her his wife - heart, body and soul - for all eternity.

* * *

Bryallyn opened her eyes to find Nathaniel's head laying against her. Lifting a hand, she began threading his hair between her fingers, sighing in contentment.

At her light touch, Nathaniel opened his eyes and glanced up at his wife. "Bry?" he murmured, shifting so that his weight was mostly on his arms once more.

Smiling, Bryallyn told him, "I love you."

He chuckled slightly, and asked, "If that is so, why are you crying?" He watched the shock cross her face then and realized she hadn't known. Smiling now, he lifted his hand to her face. Wiping some of the moisture, he turned his fingers so she could see in the dim light.

Bryallyn smiled back at him and shrugged lightly. "Happy tears?" she offered by way of excuse. She watched as he moved to her side then, tucking her up against his chest.

"I will allow that," he told her tolerantly. Wrapping his arms around her then, he murmured near her ear, "I happen to love you too, you see."

Bryallyn closed her eyes, snuggled close to him and very soon fell back to sleep. All was right in her world this night.

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***** _reference to __**We Do What Must Be Done.**_


	21. While It Lasts

_Okay, my friends, this chapter (even more so than the previous one) is a huge reason why it boosted to M. Definitely NSFW I think here …. Enjoy! =)_

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked as well as those who have set favs and alerts including: jen4306, wisecracknmama, celtic-twinkie, Shakespira, Evalyne, Liso66, ProsePrincess, Miltonia, jinx1983, jugalettePENNER, Ichiko Sakura and Kiki Aries. HUGE shoutout to Count of Chaos as well who also caught me on Chapter 15, "The Times They Are A Changing." I am aware that there is a Bob Dylan song by that name, though I am not a huge Bob Dylan fan, but because of your comments, I will agree that it should have been on the list of songs of inspiration for that chapter. =) Thank you for the catch! If anyone else has suggestions for songs, I am open to them, just let me know!_

_Thanks as always to my wonderful betas: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__ without whom I would not have made it this far! Love you, ladies!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ….._

_**A/N:**__ Songs for inspiration for this chapter: "Any Way You Want It" by Journey, "You Can Do Magic" by America, "It's My Life" by Bon Jovi, "Take Me As I Am" by October Project._

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They spent their time together in a variety of ways, not the least of which was getting to know each other on a more comfortable, intimate level. They took walks together in the woods surrounding the lodge, "hunting" but not killing the animals. Bryallyn was more interested in sharing her love of nature and the area she had visited upon many an occasion now with her new husband. Nathaniel, though trained as a warrior first, seemed inclined to appreciate not only her skills, but the benefits to her connection to the wilds. "To be able to call upon a wolf or bear for assistance during a battle would be a great skill indeed," he told her during one such excursion.

Another day they took the horses to the coast, and spent the day walking along the beach, sharing more and more of their past experiences that made them the adults they now were. Nathaniel finally opened up and admitted to her, as they sat staring out at the waves crashing to shore, just how much he had enjoyed their midnight swim years before. "You looked like the most beautiful, but elusive, fish I had ever seen," he whispered near her ear as he held her. "And then when you rose out of the water, the moonlight shining down upon you ..."

Bryallyn blushed and snuggled against his shoulder, keeping her eyes facing out towards the sea. "Not one of my better moments, I grant you," she admitted. "It was not until later that night that I began realizing what I felt for you. Had I known earlier ..."

Nathaniel leaned forward, his voice deep and husky, "Had _I_ known earlier, I would not have gone off to the Free Marches ... at least, not without you by my side ..."

A third activity had them competing once again, as they were wont to do, with their bows, all under the guise of "training." Additionally, Nathaniel began teaching her some of the blade work he had learned while in the Free Marches in addition to continuing on with the basic skills he had already started with her. "I cannot tell you that I am not bothered," he told her when she reminded him that her training with such weapons was minimal, "knowing that you cannot defend yourself with nothing but a bow. Humor me, love, and let me teach you."

When he looked at her then, she could see both the love and the worry in his grey eyes and she could do nothing but agree with him. But, though they would begin such sessions seriously, inevitably they would be reduced to laughter and amusement (Bryallyn could not keep from laughing with his hands at her waist where she was, she discovered, very ticklish) and ultimately evolving into something much more intimate ...

And when the weather proved to be uncooperative, they would remain indoors beside the fire talking, planning for the future, ... exploring ... Lying upon the large skin on the floor in front of the hearth, Bryallyn glanced up and slightly behind her. "Will you really find happiness serving within my father's ranks?" she asked, her voice filled with concern. "I know you are used to -"

Nathaniel, who was propped up and leaning against his left arm, leaned over to tickle her neck with the stubble that he had let grow. He had decided to be lazy about shaving while they were on their break, and discovered only the night before that Bryallyn was most definitely ticklish around her neck as well as other more delightful places ... "I will be more than happy to serve in your father's ranks, and he has been kind enough to offer me a position equivalent in rank as if I had been squired with him instead of being the newcomer," he murmured. He began trailing his hand along her waist, atop the shift she had donned when they had returned indoors from training after the latest series of storms that had rolled in from the sea.

Bryallyn sighed at his touch, feeling his leisurely caress sparking, stoking and elevating into the licking flames of desire that she had come to expect. "Mmmmm," she hummed, her tone dropping as he continued to tease her skin though the linen. She the light pinching of his fingers at her breasts, the glide of material over the sensitive skin causing her to gasp softly. "You do realize, don't you," she finally managed as he began kissing at the nape of her neck as well, "that ... with us living at the keep ... my mother will start ... badgering you about grandchildren... the moment we ... return?" Bryallyn gasped again, his fingers still toying, though he was now focused on the laces which closed the garment at her neck.

"Who is to say," he breathed huskily at her ear, "that she's not done so already?"

Bryallyn moved to her knees then, still facing the fire, her back to her husband while reaching for the hem of her shift to pull it over her head. But, Nathaniel was too quick for her. Kneeling behind her, he caught her hands in his to still their movement. Using his nose to nudge aside her long curls (for she had discovered early on his fascination with the long, thick lengths of her hair and had taken to leaving it unbound whenever they were indoors), he continued kissing the back of her neck and shoulders as he separated his legs a bit and pulled her closer so that she was partially sitting upon his lap. She shivered at his touch, causing him to smile gently against her skin; heard her breathing hitch as he moved both of his hands to touch, tease and tantalize the tips of her breasts through the fabric before they began drifting lower; heard her breath catch suddenly as she leaned back against him and felt his every growing response to her.

Groaning softly, it was all Bryallyn could do to reply, "Let's not ... disappoint her ..."

Nathaniel caught her earlobe between his teeth then, gently nipping it, tugging it, distracting her as he slowly and gently moved his hands up her legs and beneath the edge of the garment. Her soft, throaty moans were enough to nearly send him over the edge, but he managed to find some level of control. He wasn't ready to end this just yet. "I have no intention," he whispered, "of disappointing her."

Bryallyn placed her hands upon his thighs, her grasp tight though his breeches. His hands continued to roam, her breathing quickening to an ever increasing rate to the point that she wondered if she would be alive by the end of things. When one of his hands began pulling the shift up her leg, exposing the flesh there, she could only watch as he teased and taunted the skin, tracing indiscriminate patterns with his fingers until they reached ... "Nate!" she cried out, her body betraying her as waves of desire rolled over and through her at his touch.

Nathaniel grunted softly as she began to tremble against him. His breathing caught in his chest at the sensation of her hands tightening against his thigh muscles, her nails digging in for purchase. "Relax, love," he breathed, discovering his own breaths were becoming more erratic. _How does she do this to me?_ he half wondered as he banded his arm around her waist to keep her from falling.

Bryallyn groaned, her entire body shuddering against his hand, his body. She moved her hands to the arm around her mid-section, her hands clutching at it in desperation. "I've got you," she heard him whisper, before she gave in and fell against his chest, her head thrown back upon his shoulder. She knew that Nathaniel shifted her, laying her on the floor as he rose and stepped away for a moment, but she lost track of time, her body relaxed and sated. When next she realized his presence, he was behind her again, lying beside her, lifting her shift and kissing her skin as it became exposed to him. It took some effort, particularly since this new assault was rekindling the sensations she had just experienced.

His hands were feather light as they removed her small clothes; gently guiding her out of the shift; setting her aflame once more. Bryallyn tried to roll over on her back, but Nathaniel blocked the move, pushing her onto her belly instead. Bryallyn had an idea what he was after, and murmured brokenly, "Leave the shift ..." As he did so, he adjusted an arm beneath her, gently tugging her until she had risen to her hands and knees. It was at that point that Bryallyn felt him move behind her, sidling up so that his body nearly covered hers; strong hands at her hips, caressing, convincing her to move with him. She could feel the scrape of the linen as it rubbed against her back, caught between their bodies; his hand tightening at her hip, increasing their pace incrementally; his lips and teeth at her neck and shoulders, nipping gently and causing her to cry out.

Nathaniel heard something different in her voice this time - a hint of desperation and he could not help but smile ... but then realized that he too was doing the same. "Bry," he gasped, his head lowering against her back. "Love - I -"

Bryallyn felt as if she might pass out from lack of air. She moved her body slightly, and realized as she did so that the shift in position was such that it allowed her the release she was seeking. "Nathan ... iel ...!" But Nathaniel could not respond as he too was falling ...

* * *

As they neared the end of their week of seclusion, they began to feel the pressure of the real world intruding upon their "wedded bliss." Perhaps nothing more so than the occurrence on their last night at the lodge.

The evening began simply enough: their evening meal was served before Anna and her family retreated for the night to their home. Bryallyn and Nathaniel ate in the dining area, moving to the bedroom a short time later, curling together in bed, exploring each other as they had been all week long before falling into deep sleep, arms wrapped around each other.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Bryallyn woke slightly and rolled over to wrap her arm around her husband's chest ... only to come suddenly and completely wide awake, bolting upright in the middle of the bed. Nathaniel, feeling her movement and was instantly alert as well. Rising beside her, he placed a hand at her shoulder and whispered near her ear, "What is it?"

Bryallyn kept her arm hard against his chest, stilling his movement as she concentrated, her eyes closed so that she could center her hearing on what had disturbed her from rest ... "In the hall," she hissed after a moment, "footsteps and ... something hard and unforgiving ... metal?" Rolling out of bed she reached for her robe and secured it before taking her blade up from the night table and sliding it in the belt. As she then moved silently across the room for her bow and quiver, she saw Nathaniel dress as well, sliding on his pants and grabbing his wicked looking daggers, intentionally left within arms reach beside the bed. Quickly, she joined him behind the wooden door, just as it began to open slowly.

Nathaniel readied his blades and Bryallyn nocked an arrow and pulled the bowstring taut in anticipation as three dark shadows began to creep into the darkened room. Nathaniel glanced at his wife briefly, saw her nod as he gestured for her to take out the one furthest away while he went for the two closest. Kneeling down, he allowed her to use his shoulder for balance as she loosed her first flight before leaping to his feet, his daggers swirling around him in a flurry of movement as he advanced on the enemy.

Bryallyn had loosed a second shot before her target was able to turn after the first penetrated his shoulder, this one succeeding in finding his hip. She maneuvered her way around the others, thanks to Nathaniel shouldering them away from the door, and crossed the room, coming to face her opponent near the hearth. As she arrived, she found the man still attempting to draw his sword on her, though he had lost his shield with the loss of his arm movement. She approached him, turning her bow parallel to the ground and jabbed the man in the face beneath his helm, hearing a crunching noise as she broke his nose. Lifting her bare foot, she placed it upon his chest and forced him to the ground, before taking her dagger, hidden in the belt of her robe at her waist, and stabbing him in the throat, ending his life with a burbling gasp.

Nathaniel was able to disarm his first opponent of his sword and shield quickly, knocking him down in the process. He then turned towards the second, engaging the man quickly. The battle was not long, but it did require his entire focus. By the time his opponent's lifeless body was on the floor, Nathaniel realized the man behind him had moved positions. Turning, Nathaniel watched through the dim light as the one remaining soldier bore down upon his unsuspecting wife. "Bry!" he gasped, spinning around. Anger filling him, Nathaniel grabbed one of his daggers, flipped it in the air with a toss so that his fingers could wrap around the blade; then he threw it, hard, with a flick of his wrist as he brought it by his ear.

He didn't wait to see the blade embed itself within the man's back: like with the boar that had attacked her years before, he simply knew that the blade would find its target. Instead, he rushed around to his wife's side, pulling her quickly over by the bed, on the far side of the room, in case any more attackers were to try entering. Kneeling beside her, he began checking her over for injuries. "Nathaniel," she breathed, catching his face with her hand, forcing him to look at her, "Nathaniel, I'm fine."

Nathaniel breathed a sigh of relief before dropping his forehead to rest upon hers for the briefest of moments. They remained in position behind the bed for a few more long moments, and when it seemed that no one else was coming after them they slowly rose and moved to dress in their armor, quickly. Bryallyn pointedly ignored the bodies littering their floor, skirting around them both as she retrieved her armor and when she moved to join her husband. Arming themselves, they stepped out of the room and began searching the lodge. When they found the building clear, they headed towards the door leading out to the courtyard.

They could hear the nervous sounds of horses coming from two directions, one to their east a short ways, but out of sight, and the other from the stables. Turning her face into the light wind, she gasped and murmured, "Fire!" Nathaniel nodded, and began walking down the footpath towards the stables, Bryallyn following behind him. They found the stables themselves were not in danger of burning, but when they rounded the corner that led to Sanderson's home with his family, Bryallyn felt her chest tighten. "Oh no!"

Nathaniel had to grasp her wrist tightly in his and pull her back to keep Bryallyn from running towards the burning building. "Bry, no, it's too late!"

Bryallyn tried to pull from his grasp, but he would not let her go. "I have to! Dylan and Anna are in there too!"

Nathaniel pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her to keep her by his side. "Bry, the building is almost gone. If they had survived, they would be out here attempting to put out the flames, or moving the horses to safety." Bryallyn shook her head in denial, but Nathaniel felt her sagging in reluctant acceptance. Turning back towards the stables, he told her, "We have to get the horses and get out of here before anyone else is sent. We have to get word to our families."

Bryallyn followed him back inside the stable, quickly saddling Osprey, finding his gear nearby as Dylan had left it after the last time Bryallyn had returned from riding. Ignoring tears that were slowly rolling down her cheeks, she finished the preparations and began leading the animal out to the front courtyard. Nathaniel was right behind her.

They tied the horses to a tree near the lodge as the ducked back inside to get their belongings. Though the sun was beginning to rise, the full moon was still bright. Light seeped in between the curtains in the room making it difficult for Bryallyn to focus on her things as opposed to the dead bodies lying about the room.

Grabbing her pack, Bryallyn turned towards Nathaniel. She found him kneeling beside one of the bodies, examining the armor, the shields. "What is it?" she asked.

"Do you recognize this device?" he asked, lifting and turning a shield so she could see it clearly.

Bryallyn frowned. "No, I don't think so." As the daughter of Teyrn Bryce Cousland, one of the many things she had learned as a child was to recognize the heraldry devices of all families and nobles in Ferelden. She even recognized many from outside the country as well, but this one had her puzzled.

"It belongs to one of the Marcher states," Nathaniel told her, rising to his feet. He grasped the edge of the leather containing the device and yanked it off of the shield. Pocketing it beneath his armor, he turned and gave her a concerned look. "Someone wanted us dead."

Bryallyn nodded, turning to leave the room. She needed to get outside again, into fresh air so that she could think. Nathaniel followed, grabbing their packs first. When he walked through the door, he found her standing over near the animals, untying her steed. Walking to her side, he took the reins from her hands. "We need to wait for sunrise," he told her. "We may have others along the way to deal with." When he saw her head snap up to his, he observed she was foundering in a sea of emotions.

"We need what cover of darkness we have left in order to get beyond the danger and get back to Highever," she insisted. She tried to take the reins back, but found that he would not release them. "Nathaniel, I have to get to my family! If these men were sent to get us, what about the rest ...?"

"And we will," he promised, stepping towards her. "We will get to both our families. But we have to be sensible or we will end up dead, just as they," he gestured towards the lodge, "planned."

Her temper flaring, Bryallyn glared at him and told him, "I _am_ being sensible!" She took another step away from him. Cursing beneath her breath, she turned and stormed off.

Sighing, Nathaniel attached their packs to the animals and re-secured Osprey's reins before turning to go after his wife. He found her on the back side of the lodge, staring out towards the forest beyond. Stepping closer, he heard her soft voice chanting, saw her move her hands slightly, before kneeling to the ground. Frowning for a moment, Nathaniel wondered what she was doing, ... until he saw a pair of yellowish eyes glowing near the treeline.

Bryallyn knew the moment Nathaniel arrived, having heard his steps as he rounded the building. She'd chosen to ignore him, her focus solely on calling the wolf to her side. Now that he had arrived, Bryallyn rose to her feet, signaled the animal to her side and turned to face her husband. "Since we don't have Constant with us," she told him, "I thought I would call in reinforcements. Now let's go."


	22. On Alert

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those who set favs and alerts including CherryBerry20, Shakespira, celtic-twinkie, Piceron, wisecracknmama, Miltonia and Hankhar._

_Thanks to my absolutely fabulous betas who keep me in line: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __** VioletTheirin**__. Without your assistance, I could not do this! Thank you, ladies!_

_Special thanks to Erynnar whose idea for dwarven plumbing was the best explanation I could ever even hope to think of for the indoor baths at Highever! Thank you, my friend, for all that you do to help!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N:**__ Music for inspiration: "This is War" by Thirty Seconds to Mars, "Any Means Necessary" by Hammerfall, and "Live and Let Die" from the Best of James Bond soundtrack._

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They rode quickly, stopping once very briefly to give the animals much needed rest. Thankfully, they were close enough to Highever that it was only a matter of a few hours before they were clamoring through the town and into the courtyard of the castle.

They arrived at the keep early, and without warning, which in itself was warning enough to the guards on duty. As they reined in their mounts in the courtyard, both newlyweds could hear the shouts of the watch making their way down the line and back to the command center inside. Nathaniel was the first to dismount and hurried over to assist his wife from her own mount, allowing the stable boys to take both animals away for care. Any packs or gear they had would undoubtedly make it to their quarters before they did.

Hurriedly, Bryallyn led Nathaniel into the keep, heading directly for the great hall. Though home earlier than planned, she knew that the Captain and next guard shift would be there, certain that they were at that very moment being briefed on her and Nathaniel's arrival. As they pushed the doors open, she found, as she had hoped, Ser Gilmore was on duty and being briefed by one of the members of the watch. "Rory!" she gasped upon entering.

"My lady!" Rory Gilmore was of an age with both Fergus and Nathaniel. He had been in the teryn's service since squiring at age twelve, and grown up with the Cousland siblings. "We were not expecting you until this evening!" he exclaimed as he joined the couple.

Bryallyn glanced up at Nathaniel who nodded. Taking over for her while she sat at the table, utterly exhausted, Nathaniel began to explain what had occurred at the hunting lodge, watching as the Captain's features grew more and more concerned with each word. "Bry," Nathaniel finally suggested, "why don't you go find your parents and fill them in. We may have to move quickly on this."

Rising to her feet, Bryallyn nodded and left the room. She headed immediately towards the private apartments and was thankful to find that an alert servant had forewarned them of her return. As she approached her parents' room, she found her father exiting, and her mother following close behind. "Pup!" Bryce exclaimed in surprise, his voice rough in concern. He pulled her close as she neared. "Pup, what is it? What has happened?"

"Papa," Bryallyn breathed in relief, thankful to find all was well with her family.

"Darling, what happened?" Eleanor asked as she took her daughter in her arms. Her gaze drifting up to her husband's, she continued, "Where is Nathaniel? Is he safe? Is everything all right?"

Bryallyn found herself at a loss for words suddenly, now that she was surrounded once more by her family. "We ... we were attacked ... at the lodge last night ...," she said softly. She heard her mother's gasp, felt her father's alarm as his whole body stiffened, and she turned to face Bryce. "Papa," she choked out, "Sanderson, Anna and Dylan ... were all killed … murdered!"

Bryce pulled Bryallyn close again, glancing at his wife over the top of their daughter's head. A moment later, their exchange was interrupted by the sound of Fergus joining them. Bryallyn saw him exit his room and broke free from her father's embrace to run to him, hugging him in relief. Concerned, Fergus wrapped his arms about his sister as he glanced up at his father who simply shook his head, indicating that the news was not good. "Oriana? Oren?" Bryallyn asked urgently. "Where are they? Are they safe?"

"Still sleeping," he assured her quickly, a frown of confusion in his eyes. "What's the trouble out here? Bry?"

"There has been an attack against your sister and I," Nathaniel announced wearily as he walked up the pathway. He nodded his greeting towards his new family. Wrapping his arms around Bryallyn as she turned towards him, he continued, "I've briefed Ser Gilmore who is doubling the guards at the moment. Also, I have given him the details of what we know at this point which, I'm afraid, is not much." He paused for a brief moment then added, "I ran into Devlyn as well, and told him what passed ... he was on his way to assist Rory last I saw of him ..."

Eleanor stepped forward then, signalling one of the servants at the far end of the hall. When the woman approached, Eleanor spoke to her in a hushed voice for a moment before turning her attention back to her family. "If you've informed Rory, Nathaniel, then things should be well in hand. Bryce, why don't you and Fergus head down and talk with Rory and Dev." Both men had stepped away just as she began her suggestion. Turning to her daughter and Nathaniel then, she began herding them towards Bryallyn's room. "I'm having some food brought up for you both," she explained as they moved inside. "Take some time to bathe, change, eat and rest. Later you can join us in the hall for our next strategy session."

Nathaniel reached out before the teyrna could leave and caught her by her arm. "Your Grace -"

Giving him a warm smile, Eleanor told him, "Nathaniel, do you not think you could at least refer to me as 'my lady' if not 'mother?' We are related now."

Nathaniel blushed slightly, but was not quite ready for that familiarity yet. "My lady," he began again, "my family? Are they still here? Have they departed for Amaranthine?"

Eleanor nodded. "Your mother, brother and sister all left four days ago. Your father is still here since he and Bryce are all planning to ride to Ostagar together. We are still waiting on his troops, but they should be along any day now," she explained. "I will see that he is awakened and brought down to the briefing in the hall." Then with an affectionate pat to Nathaniel's arm, Eleanor added softly, "Nathaniel, thank you ... for protecting my daughter."

Nathaniel held the older woman's gaze for a long moment, reading a cacophony of emotions in her green gaze, the most prevalent of which at the moment was gratitude. With a smile, he replied, "She has come to mean a great deal to me as well, my lady."

When they were finally alone, Nathaniel led Bryallyn to the bed where he began to assist her with her armor. She seemed to be in shock now that the news had been passed on, and he found it increasingly difficult to remove her armor as she participated less and less in the process. When he at last had her down to her small clothes, he left her sitting on the bed to draw the water in the tub in the corner of the room. One of the creature comforts of her great grandfather, Bryallyn had once told him, was to have running water pipes installed in the castle so that the servants would not have to drag water back and forth from the kitchens.

When he had the tub filled, he coaxed Bryallyn to join him, as she was in no condition to bathe herself. It took him nearly twice as long as he'd planned, but he finally managed to get them both bathed, hair washed and rinsed, and back to the bed without too much difficulty. Once beneath the sheets and blankets, Nathaniel pulled Bryallyn close, his arm around her waist in a gesture of protection. Within moments, they were both asleep.

Some time later, Nathaniel was not sure how long, but knew it to be at least several hours, he was woken by the sound of the door to the room opening. He opened his eyes to see Nan carrying in a tray which she set on the nearby table. Then, before exiting, she crossed over to the bed. She noticed Nathaniel's eyes on her and she sniffed. "Just checkin' on my girl," she said quietly, running a hand along Bryallyn's curls. Nathaniel nodded, knowing of the special relationship that the woman had with the Cousland family in general, but Bryallyn in particular.

When she was at the door, Nan turned back for a moment and said, "Oi, and that mutt of hers is down in the stables when you lot are ready to take him back. Bothersome beast ... causing no end of trouble and getting into the larder again ..."

Nathaniel found himself staring after the woman long after the door had been closed. "Nan is unique," Bryallyn's voice whispered then, "but it's her way of telling us she loves us."

Nathaniel glanced down at her, relief in his eyes. "Are you feeling better now?" he asked as he turned to lean over her, searching her eyes intently for the truth of it.

Bryallyn nodded. "I'm sorry if I worried you," she told him softly. "I guess I sort of ... shut down."

Nathaniel nodded. "You could say that," he told her. Then he pulled her close for a hug. "We should probably go and see what has been discussed and what is still under consideration."

Rising, they found that their packs had been returned to them, as well as the items Nathaniel had not taken with him to the lodge. They dressed, both in armor, and donned their armor while eating off the tray that Nan had brought. Nathaniel watched his wife as she quickly braided her long curls and wound it up on the top of her head, securing it with a hairpin. Turning then, she asked, "Ready?" He nodded and they departed the room together, heading towards the great hall.

As they entered, they found an increased number of guards present on watch as well as Bryce, Fergus, Eleanor, Arl Howe, Devlyn Cashen and Ser Gilmore in addition to a newcomer. Bryce rose to his feet when he noticed Bryallyn and Nathaniel arriving. When the pair reached the table, Bryce explained, "Bryallyn, Nathaniel, this is Grey Warden Commander Duncan. He arrived yesterday with all intentions of evaluating Ser Gilmore. We have asked him to join us should he have any insights to the current situation."

Bryallyn turned towards the tall, dark haired man and greeted him. Nathaniel followed suit. Speaking to the Teyrn but keeping his eyes on both Bryallyn and Nathaniel, his deep voice rumbled, "I would respectfully submit that your daughter and her husband would be exceptional candidates as well, Teyrn Cousland."

The room quieted suddenly, and Bryce stepped forward, a concerned look upon his features. A loud gasp from Eleanor could be heard as Bryce said firmly, "I've not so many children that I'll gladly see them all off to battle, old friend. And my wife may have something to say in that regard as well."

Duncan chuckled easily, turning to face the Teyrn. "I value our friendship too highly to put you in such a position, my friend. I shall limit myself to the task at hand." With a slight bow, the man stepped back from Bryce and walked over to the table and seated himself.

Bryce turned towards Bryallyn and Nathaniel. With a partial smile, he told them, "You are just in time. We were about to sit down and discuss the situation."

Bryallyn smiled at her father before glancing up at Nathaniel who nodded. They crossed the room together, taking seats at the same table as the others. The discussion was intense: Nathaniel and Bryallyn both recounted the events they had experienced in minute detail from the order of attack to the styles of fighting and weapons used. Nathaniel pulled out the heraldic device he had torn from the shield and identified it, with agreement from Bryce, his father and Duncan as to its origins. Ser Gilmore ran through the security changes he had already put into place as well as the suggestions he and Dev had come up with since Rory's initial meeting with Nathaniel.

Bryallyn found her thoughts drifting off as the meeting progressed. She knew her father and Fergus and Howe were all planning to head towards Ostagar to meet up with King Cailan's forces. News of this gathering of forces had arrived at Highever in the days just prior to the wedding. Though it had brought a pall over the joyous gathering, Bryallyn had known it was something that could happen at any time. With the inevitable about to face them fully, she found her concerns drifting towards the safety of those she loved and cared for. _Why would they attack us?_ she wondered. _What possible threat could we be to them?_ She glanced up at her husband, watched him closely as he added to the conversation. She could think of no reason why they would be targets. _We are newlyweds, no threat to anyone other than, perhaps, some unknown love interest?_ Sighing, she closed her eyes, her hand moving to pinch at the bridge of her nose to relieve the headache building there. Already, just after such a short time, it was becoming a doozy.

Eleanor glanced at her daughter, her heart racing at the thought of how close she had come to losing both her and Nathaniel. Bryallyn had held up well, though, and Eleanor could not have been prouder. Glancing at Bryce, she tilted her head towards their daughter, silently asking the question. Bryce's features softened a bit as he glanced at his fierce girl. Nodding, he agreed. Eleanor rose quietly, touching Bryallyn's arm and gesturing that she should follow her.

Bryallyn was surprised at her mother's actions, but followed in silence. She felt Nathaniel's gaze turn onto her back, his voice gaining a bit in volume as it spread towards her before he turned back to the discussion at hand. Meeting her mother in the center of the room, she asked, "What is it, Mother?"

"That is what I was going to ask you. Are you all right?"

Bryallyn's smile was sardonic at best. "Someone just tried to kill both myself and my husband. Should I be all right?" she asked. "I can't for the life of me figure out who or why anyone would want us dead."

Eleanor pulled her daughter close, leading her towards the doors. "Darling, let them worry about it. You are going to be taking over the keep while your father is gone and ..."

Bryallyn froze, something niggling at the back of her mind. _Father, Fergus, Nathaniel and Howe all will be at Ostagar ... Mother and I will be here ..._ Bryallyn glanced over at her husband, now listening to her father speak. He chanced a glance over at her, a question in his eyes. _But, why the Free Marches? Why would someone from there ..._

Eleanor watched her daughter as she frowned, obviously working something out in her head. "Darling, come and rest. You are going to need it if you are going to keep the castle running in your father's absence ..."

Bryallyn pulled from her mother's embrace and walked down the side of the room, still deep in thought. _Highever ... Ostagar ... Free Marches. Everyone gone but a small contingent of forces, led by Ser Gilmore. The men gone, the women at home ..._ Bryallyn pounded her fist on the table. _Something is not adding up!_

Concerned, Eleanor reached her daughter's side and told her firmly, "Come with me, Bry."

"No!" Bryallyn returned. Looking up at her mother, she said, fiercely, "Don't you see mother? This doesn't add up! They _want_ us separated - they have to know we are sending forces to Ostagar, that father and Fergus, Arl Howe and Nathaniel will be there! It makes no sense for forces from the Free Marches to be involved unless it is a distraction to separate us all even further!" Bryallyn gasped suddenly. She could almost see it ... the connection ... but like a word stuck on the end of her tongue, she could not grasp it and pull it to the forefront of her brain.

Eleanor caught Bryallyn's arm before the younger woman began sagging against her. "Bry?" she murmured. "Are you all right?"

Sighing heavily, she nodded. "Headache," she muttered.

Eleanor led her daughter along the hall towards the living quarters and guest rooms. "You need a bit more rest. While you lie down I'll have Nan make that tea you like for your headache. All will be fine, my girl."

Bryallyn removed her armor upon entering her room and then crawled into bed. Her head was throbbing now, right behind her eyes. _I need to figure this out!_ she thought just before slipping into oblivion.

Later that evening, having been warned by his mother-in-law, Nathaniel entered the room quietly to find Bryallyn still deeply asleep. He sighed, knowing that they needed to talk, to discuss what had been decided at the meeting, but he did not want to wake her if her sleep was a healing one. He undressed quickly, changed into his night clothes and slipped beneath the covers. As he carefully pulled her close, he heard her mumble something, though he could not tell what it was. With a smile, he wondered if she would remember to tell him in the morning.


	23. Separation

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those setting alerts and favs including: Shakespira, Evalyne, MelRedux, celtic-twinkie, Liso66, jezika427, ProsePrincess, jen4306, deomonology89 and Erynnar._

_Thanks to my wonderfully talented betas: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__. _

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ….. _

_**A/N:**__ "I've Been Losing You" by A-ha, "Games People Play" by Alan Parsons Project, "Through the Fire and Flame" by Dragon Force. If any of you have suggestions for songs, please let me know! I'm always willing to learn and adapt my tastes! (Plus, I'm certain you'll get tired of seeing the same songs repeated here over and over again!)_

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Bryallyn stood just inside the doorway between her room and the hall watching as Nathaniel packed his bag in short measured strokes; folding clothes, packing essentials, organizing the arrangement inside so that additional items, including some of her father's best maps of the Free Marches, could fit. _Barely a week married and we are being pulled apart by Maker knows what. This shouldn't be happening …._ "We should go together," she murmured as he continued his actions but without comment..

"This is not open for debate, Bry."

She sighed inwardly. _I've married a stubborn, stubborn man it seems! _ "We don't yet know who the real threat is against -" she tried protesting yet again.

But, unlike previous attempts at discussing this topic, Nathaniel spun around, a fire in his eyes and anger rolling off him in waves. "No, Bry," he told her fiercely, harshly. "I will not change my mind on this. Your father needs you here at the moment, anyway while he and Fergus are gone. It's that simple: you will remain here, I will go to the Free Marches - alone."

Bryallyn was non-plussed at his display of pique. Instead, she was prepared to force the issue if necessary. "Nathaniel, -"

But Nathaniel was not about to let her. Stalking over, he took her arms in his hands, his fingers tightening enough so that his grasp was firm, and he shook her lightly. "Bry, I can't do what needs to be done if you are there with me!" he told her sharply. "I need to be able to focus. If you are with me, I will worry more about your safety than what I need to do. Dev and I will go; you will remain here. End of story."

Bryallyn nodded, turning her head away from him. Taking deep breaths, she tried to calm herself. Of course, he was right. She knew that. But she hated being left behind when she had talents that would serve better elsewhere. _And it's just not fair!_ she cried silently.

Nathaniel released her after a moment, quite suddenly, and took a step backwards from her. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her lift her head towards him, but his focus was soley upon his hands for a moment, a memory from his childhood flooding back to him.

"_Why must you insist upon interfering?" Rendon demanded harshly as he stalked towards her._

"_I am interfering?" she returned, stepping in front of her oldest son. "I should think I was assisting, not interfering, when it was clear that you were about to -"_

_Angered beyond limits, Rendon took her by her upper arms and shook her while Nathaniel backed slowly away. The motion was sharp, violent, and strong enough to shake the pile of dark curls she wore pinned atop her head loose. Nathaniel's young eyes were locked on the falling curls as his ears heard her cry ... and he felt strong, safe, secure hands lead him out of the room ..._

Bryallyn frowned, searching his face. "Nathaniel?" She reached out, touching his arm. "Nathaniel!" she called again, this time a bit louder.

He finally lifted his gaze from his hands to her face. "Bry, I -" he gasped, allowing her to see his fear without any walls between them.

Concerned, Bry stepped closer to him. Lifting a hand to his cheek, she touched him, held him, called to him. "What is it, love? What's wrong?"

Nathaniel managed to sit on the edge of the bed before falling over. Bryallyn followed him until she stood between his legs, directly in front of him. Glancing up again, he saw nothing but concern on her features. There was no fear, no terror, no revulsion. Taking a deep breath, he allowed the feelings that had suddenly stormed through him to dissipate. "I - Just for a moment," he finally managed, "I ... thought I was turning into my father." _There, I've said it. It's up to her to make the choice now …._

Bryallyn looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

He told her about the memory, about how when he'd been twelve he'd watched his father shake his mother so horribly. He described the anger and hate and pure violence that he had seen in his father that day ... "When I did the same to you, I -"

"No!" she told him immediately. "You did not do the same to me!" She stood before him, lifting his face to meet hers. Smiling softly, she reminded him gently, "You stopped yourself in time, Nathaniel ... you are not like him!" Then with an impish grin, simply to get him thinking in another direction, she added, "Do you honestly think I would allow you do that to me when I know I have it within my power to stop you?"

Nathaniel blinked first and then frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"

She stepped forward, between his legs, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Lifting her hands to run through the hair at the back of his neck, massaging gently until she felt the muscles there relax, she told him, "Do you not recall that first training session we had together? In Denerim? At the palace?"

He nodded, comprehension dawning at last as the final vestiges of his living nightmare faded from his mind. With a half laugh, he pulled her close so that he could rest his head upon her shoulder as he told her, "We shall have to test your skills again upon my return."

Her smile audible in her voice, Bryallyn replied, "I accept your challenge, my lord!"

A moment later, she turned to sit upon his lap, his arms still around her. "Nathaniel," she murmured, "stay safe … please."

"I intend to," he replied.

Sighing, she lowered her head to his shoulder this time. "This entire situation sounds very contrived … there is something we are all missing, I know this, yet I cannot figure out just what it is!"

Nathaniel tightened his hold. They had spent time that morning discussing the partial theory that Bryallyn had come up with and though Nathaniel agreed with her, neither had been able to come up with any idea of what could be the missing link. "I will stay safe," he promised, pressing a kiss to her head, "and I will be back before you know it. Perhaps even before our fathers return from Ostagar."

"I will keep him safe for you, Bry."

Bryallyn lifted her head from her husband's shoulder to glance over at Devlyn, now standing in the doorway. Giving the man a smile, she nodded. "Thank you, Dev."

"Are you ready Nate? The ship leaves in a couple of hours. Your father managed to get us both passage on _La Gaviota (The Seagull)_."

Bryallyn blinked at the name and glanced up at her husband. "You're joking, right?" she inquired.

Dev's chuckle reverberated through the room. "Unfortunately, no," he returned.

Sighing heavily, Bryallyn rose to her feet and watched her husband do the same. As Nathaniel shouldered his bag, Bryallyn crossed to Devlyn's side and gave the man a hug. "I trust you will both return safely?" she told him.

Lifting her hand to his lips, he gave her one of his most charming smiles and replied, "You may count upon it, my lady."

They departed the room and began walking down to the great hall where they found the Teyrn and Teyrna, Fergus, Oriana, Rory Gilmore, Rendon Howe and Duncan all waiting. Bryallyn stepped aside as her family said goodbye, knowing that their love and concern for her husband was as genuine as if he was a Cousland. And, though she detected a hint of red at Nathaniel's neck when both Eleanor and Oriana kissed his cheek, Bryallyn could not hold back a soft smile of approval as her husband withstood his discomfort and moved on to speak with the others. Finally, as Nathaniel spoke to Bryce last, Bryallyn stepped forward and moved to her husband's side.

"Stay safe, my boy," the Teyrn was saying. "Are you sure you won't take additional men with you?"

"No, your Grace," Nathaniel replied firmly. "I will accept the four I've already agreed upon, but if I take more, we look more like a group looking for battle rather than a scouting expedition."

Bryallyn noticed the Grey Warden Duncan beside her father was nodding in agreement with Nathaniel's assessment, and it helped ease her mind a bit. She saw his dark eyes shift to her suddenly, an almost impish glint to them as if he'd caught her looking at him. She blushed slightly, but saw that he simply smiled at her, nodding a bit as if agreeing with her as well. _I shall have to speak with him later,_ she thought.

Reaching his arm out, Bryce clasped his new son's in a warrior's grasp and nodded. "Good luck to you then, Nathaniel. May the Maker watch you on your journey."

Nathaniel held his father-in-law's gaze for a long moment as he returned, "May He watch over us all, your Grace."

Bryallyn crossed the room with him then, stepping into a secluded corner with him for one last goodbye. As she turned her lips up into a smile, she lifted her left hand to caress his cheek. "I won't go with you to the docks," she told him, feeling the fragile grip she had on her emotions wobble slightly. "I will simply tell you I love you, I trust you implicitly, and I will look forward to your safe return." She looked up into his dark, stormy gaze just as he lowered his head, swooping in to catch her lips in a thorough kiss.

His own hand lifting to her cheek, he told her fiercely, "I will be back … do not doubt this!"

Bryallyn felt the tears begin trickling down her face then. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head and whispered, "I won't … ever!" before stepping back.

Dev neared them then, four Highever soldiers behind him, and he nodded at Bryallyn. "Be safe and well, my lady."

"And you as well," she returned, her gaze including all five men. Moments later, they had departed through the front gates and were on their way down to the docks. Bryallyn half thought of dashing up to the battlements to watch their progress, but decided against it. And in the next moment, she felt another presence at her side.

"It seems as if Father would have me leave with some of our men to Ostagar this evening," Fergus murmured as he joined her. "I trust you will take care of my wife and son as well as Mother while we are gone?"

Bryallyn pulled a deep breath. "I shall do the best I am able," she replied automatically. Glancing up at him, she asked, "When will Father leave?"

"He and Howe will wait for the Amaranthine men to arrive … anytime now, so I hear." Fergus gave his sister a searching look. "He'll be all right, Bry," he reassured her. "And I will tell you this as well: I do not _ever_ want to be on opposing sides with your husband. I've seen and heard what he is capable of. He is quite formidable."

Bryallyn smiled. "He has his moments," she agreed softly. Then opening her arms, she gave her brother a hug. "Stay safe, Fergus. Maker watch over you."

Fergus chuckled softly. "I suspect, given Oren's new phase of inquisitiveness, that _he_ shall be needing to watch over you while I am gone, sister dear!" He heard her laugh then and knew that she would rebound quickly from her current emotional state. "We will be back before you know it … comparing war stories, beautiful serving wenches serving our ale and -"

"What's a 'wench,' Father?" Oren's little voice piped up then, causing the Cousland siblings to break into amused laughter. Bryallyn gave her brother a pointed look while Fergus began explaining the meaning of the word to his son.

Moments later, Oriana, Eleanor and Bryce joined them. After saying goodbye to her brother once more, Bryallyn begged her leave and retreated to her room seeking refuge in the quiet and empty space. She found Constant sitting nearby, someone obviously having released him from Nan's 'imprisonment' in the stables, and the hound quickly rose to his feet as she entered the room. Patting his head absently, she told him, "Well, boy, it seems as if we will be alone for just a bit longer. Do you think we can handle that?"

Constant yipped his acknowledgement as he followed his mistress to the bedside. He settled down nearby, watching her prepare for the evening, and once satisfied she was well taken care of, he drifted off to sleep.


	24. Preparations

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, and those who have set alerts and favs including: Miltonia, Evalyne, Shakespira, celtic-twinkie, horselover90, Piceron and ProsePrincess._

_Thanks to my wonderful betas: __**Blighsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__ without whom I would surely lose my sanity in this process. Thank you my friends!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up..._

_**A/N:**__ Be forewarned, you may need brain bleach at the end of this one … ;) I apologize for its short length, but there's only so much I can write from his POV and survive mentally ..._

_Musical Inspiration: "Highway to Hell" by AC/DC, "Maneater" by Hall & Oates, and "Street of Dreams" by Rainbow. These songs may seem a bit strange, but you need to take them into context as you read this POV._

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Rendon Howe departed Teyrn Cousland's study late that evening and retreated to his rooms in the living quarters. After the good-byes in the great hall he, Bryce and Warden Commander Duncan had shared a fairly simple meal and then retreated to the study for drinks and discussion. It was during this transition from the dining area to the study that he'd been approached by one of his men, his captain Garrick Lowan, who had just arrived ahead of his men. The captain had handed him a message, but unable to read it at that moment, Howe had sent the captain back to lead the troops into Highever. He now pulled it from his pocket as he entered his room, and wandered over towards the window where the light of the full moon loomed in to provide him scant lighting so that he could read the missive.

_My lord Howe,_

_Some of the men are not pleased with your plan. They will incite others against you. For the plan to succeed, our forces must be united. If word gets out, if even one of them informs Cousland, it will be your head on a plate. I say this with all due respect, ser._

_Your captain,_

_Lowan_

Rendon frowned. _Damnable bastards, the lot of them!_ he growled softly to himself. _They think to betray me at this late date?_ He crumpled the parchment before tossing it into the fire blazing away in the hearth. _They think they can get away with it?_

Lowan's arrival ahead of the rest of his men had sparked a cheerful enthusiasm among the Highever men waiting to depart with their Teyrn the next morning. However, with the man's spoken message to Arl Howe in front of the Teyrn Cousland and the Warden Commander they had come to realize that their excitement had been premature: the Amaranthine troops were yet about a day behind him.

_If only they knew …._ Returning to the window, Rendon pulled the curtain back and peered out and up towards the battlements at the Highever watch on duty. _No sense of urgency … no alarm, despite what happened the previous day to Nathaniel and the Cousland chit. This plan __will__ work, those bloody fools be damned!_ _Highever is completely unprepared for this …._

There was a knock at his door then, and Rendon turned. He'd been expecting the interruption, and opened to find Captain Lowan standing before him once more … this time, his armor indicative of a man of much lower rank. _An interesting disguise to be sure_ … Rendon gestured the man inside before closing the barrier behind him. "The men are in place?" he queried softly.

"Yes, my lord. They will attack upon the signal."

"Good," he continued, turning to walk back over by the window. "Very good."

"Sir, about the message earlier …."

Rendon turned his head slowly to evaluate the man before him. "I appreciate your concern, Captain," he told him, "but the fact that you and the men are in place now should go a long way to reassuring the others that this plan will indeed work. The pieces are in place … the attack goes forward."

Captain Lowan stood straighter, his feet coming together, nodding salute. "The assignments have not changed?"

Rendon shook his head. "No, they remain the same." He pointed across the room to the armoire. "The clothing you need is in there. I will depart with you, leaving the keep in the confusion. When you have secured the castle, bring those who yet live to me in Amaranthine unless you hear otherwise."

Lowan crossed to the armoire and opened it, pulling out one of the Arl's typical daily outfits. Changing quickly, he passed his splitmail armor to his lord and he donned the man's appearance. Though up close it would be quite easy to determine that the man was _not_ Rendon Howe, from a distance, and to staff and soldiers who did not know the Arl well, it would be a relatively easy disguise to take advantage of.

A short time later, the chantry bell from the town began tolling the first hour of the new day. "I am ready, my lord," Lowan announced as the last chime continued to echo.

"Good." Rendon placed the helm on his head, satisfied that he would not be recognized. He took the man's sword and shield, leaving the captain his dagger with which he would attack and kill Bryce Cousland. "Would that I could do the deed myself," he murmured as he nodded his approval at his captain, "but it cannot be risked."

"Gervis and Tynan are just outside the city gates, my lord," Lowan told him. "They have a mount waiting for you there."

Rendon nodded absently as he made final adjustments to his armor. "Let's go," he murmured at last satisfied. Without further ado, they exited the rooms. When they reached the main part of the keep, Rendon turned to exit the castle proper while Lowan headed towards the study where Bryce and Duncan had remained after their meeting with Rendon. Exiting through the gates without incident, Rendon marched down the path a short distance until he came upon Amaranthine men. He recognized Stevens and nodded. "It is time," he told him. The man nodded in return and began leading his men up towards the courtyard as Rendon continued his way through town.

Some minutes later, he exited through the city gates and followed the path to where Lowan had told him he would meet Gervis and Tynan. The men recognized him after the helm was removed and soon all three were riding eastward at a rapid pace. With one final look over his shoulder, Rendon imagined he could hear the screams and cries of mercy, the smell of fire and battle as his men took over what Rendon knew to be rightfully his. _Goodbye, old friend,_ he thought as he chuckled at the thought of Bryce's death. _Such a pity that we could not be family for long …._


	25. Betrayal

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked as well as those setting alerts and favs including: Shakespira, Liso66, jen4306, ProsePrincess and Evalyne._

_Thanks to my wonderfully patient and extraordinarily fabulous betas: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__ without whom I would be completely lost and tearing my hair out! Thank you my friends!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ….._

_**A/N:**__ Musical Inspiration: "This is War" by 30 Seconds to Mars, "Games People Play" by Allan Parsons Project, "I've Been Losing You" by A-ha, "Through the Fire and Flame" by DragonForce, "Dust in the Wind" by Kansas, "Don't Turn Around" by Ace of Base, "I'm Alive" by Electric Light Orchestra._

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The ship departing Highever for the Free Marches set sail with the tide while Nathaniel and Devlyn watched from the deck as the town retreated from their line of sight. Nathaniel was leaning against the rail, staring at Castle Cousland as they made the journey out to sea, wondering if he had made the right decision. _You had to go,_ he told himself. _The watches are increased, Father's men are assisting, the state of alert is at its highest._

Devlyn stood beside Nathaniel, a little further down the rail, but said nothing. Nathaniel suspected his friend was thinking after Delilah who, though safely away from Highever now, could still be in danger too. Time seemed to stand still for a while as the ship moved, but the sky still dimmed towards night and the shoreline completely faded from view, until finally both young men turned and headed towards their cabins. They had decisions to make, plans to detail, men to brief.

Nathaniel was inside his cabin searching through his pack for the maps and the scrap of cloth from the shield of the men who had attacked him and Bryallyn at the lodge when he heard the door opening softly behind him. As he had been expecting his second and the Highever men to arrive momentarily so that they could discuss their plans for their arrival at Kirkwall in more detail, he did not think much of the newcomer's appearance until he heard the echo of a soft voice crying out in alarm, _Nathaniel, watch out! Behind you!_

Later, Nathaniel would not be able to explain why he had listened to the voice inside his head that had cried out with such insistence and sounded very much like his wife, but he had, he did, ... and it saved his life. From the second he heard the urgency in the cry, Nathaniel had shifted to his left, spinning as he did so while pulling a dagger from his waist. The move and the draw were timed almost perfectly, and he managed to deflect the blade aimed at his heart just enough to have it plunge into his upper left arm nearer his shoulder rather than his chest.

The ensuing fight was short-lived despite the injury to his arm once Nathaniel was able to move into a defensive stance. For, though his proficiency and preference was with his bow, he was an expert using daggers as well. When finally he had battled his opponent to the ground, disarming him and pinning him to the floor, Nathaniel leaned forward and ripped the hood away from the man ... to find his second lying there, grimacing in pain, broken pride, and loathing. "You know I am not fond of betrayal," Nathaniel hissed acidly, masking his surprise and disappointment, "so you had better have a good reason for this Devlyn Cashen."

Devlyn, a man who had been beside the elder of the Howe children as his second since their years in the Free Marches together, who had traveled and trained with him, who had stood up for him at his wedding, now glared angrily at Nathaniel, as if a child who had not gotten his way. "I do," he admitted slowly, "though you will not agree with it."

Nathaniel frowned. "Speak, Dev. My patience wore thin the moment you attacked." His frown deepened suddenly as he remembered. "Wait ... does this have something to do with the attack at the hunting lodge?"

Devlyn turned his head away. "Let me up and I will tell you," he grumbled hoarsely.

"I am not a fool." Nathaniel shook the man who had been his friend for many years, allowing his head to knock against the floor without mercy. "Tell me!" Nathaniel demanded.

"Your father!" Devlyn spit out finally. "Your father paid me a huge sum of money and promised your sister to me in marriage if I would ... eliminate you." The blond man glared at Nathaniel. "I have … debts … I need paid," he hissed, "or I am dead. You know how it is ..."

Nathaniel snorted angrily. "I know my limits, you apparently do not, so no my friend, I do not know how it is. These debts … they are owned by my father, no doubt."

Devlyn scowled, anger that his plans were falling apart now getting the better of him. "Amongst others, yes. Your father told me that if I did this for him he would erase my debts with all parties … promised me Delilah in marriage! If I did not, he assured me in no uncertain terms that the Crows would find me."

Nathaniel felt a chill rush through him, the hairs on the back of his neck and arms lifting. He had known his father to be ruthless, but … this? "That explains _your_ reason. What reason would my father have for wanting _me_ dead?" he demanded, though the idea did not surprise him all that much.

"Because you have aligned yourself with traitors, man!" his second spat out. "The Couslands have sold out to the Orlesians -"

Nathaniel could not refrain from belting the man across the jaw at that. "Maker's breath, Dev!" he growled. "What idiocy has my father been feeding you to get you to do his bidding? The Couslands have no such alliance, and the Orlesians certainly have no such influence upon them!"

"Take that up with your father then, for I have nothing else I can tell you."

Nathaniel rose to his feet, pulling the man up beside him. "Who else is involved?" he demanded. "Anyone else on board? Any other attacks I should be made aware of?" Nathaniel's head turned as he heard the door to his room open. He spotted the Highever men entering, confusion on their faces as they found Nathaniel pinning Devlyn down. He gestured them inside and to close the door. "He attacked me," Nathaniel explained bluntly, gesturing to the blood now dripping down his arm at a steady pace, soaking the material there. One of the Highever men stepped forward immediately, taking over the grip on Devlyn. With a nod of thanks, Nathaniel stepped back, reaching for his pack with the first aid kit.

"My lord," one of the other men queried as he stepped forward to assist Nathaniel, "to what purpose? Why would he -"

"Apparently my father put him up to it." Nathaniel glared at Devlyn again, his eyes narrowing. "You didn't answer my question, Dev. Am I to expect any more attacks? On board? In the Free Marches?"

Devlyn shook his head. "No, I was the only one here. No one in the Marches that I am aware of. Back at Highever, however ..."

Nathaniel felt his chest tighten at the casual attitude of the man's words and he reacted upon instinct, returning to Devlyn's side and shoving him against the wall, bracing his forearm against the man's throat, uncaring if he injured him or not. "What about Highever?" he demanded harshly. He was oblivious to the Highever men trying to pull him off.

"Nate, it's too late," Devlyn gasped. "You ... you can't do anything to save them."

"WHAT?" Nathaniel felt ice building in his veins at the thought of his wife and her family unknowingly about to become targets. He jerked his arm up, connecting beneath Devlyn's chin and cracking the man's skull against the wall. "Tell me!" The men who had been trying to pull Nathaniel off of Devlyn had ceased their efforts as the import of the traitor's claims became clear. They too had interests at Highever.

Devlyn lowered his eyes as he muttered, "Your father's men ... they are to attack the castle, destroy the Teyrn and his family ... kill them ... _all of them_." Lifting his head again he added with a cold look at his one-time friend, "Your father is after it all, Nate. He wants what he says is rightfully his. And he has support ... from above ..."

One of the Highever men, Trinion Nathaniel saw, took a menacing step forward. Holding him back with his good arm, Nathaniel demanded, "Why me?" He felt his entire world turning upside down, out of control, out of his hands. _Why, Father? Why would you do this?_ "Why would my father want me dead?" _I know you have no real love for me, but I am your blood …_

"Because you married the Cousland chit."

This time, Nathaniel's elbow connected with Devlyn's jaw and as he stepped back, he saw the man fall to the floor unconscious. Stepping back and away, Nathaniel began to feel reaction settling in: shock, anger, … despair. Groaning at the information he had just been subjected to, Nathaniel felt himself stumble over towards the bed where he could sink to the mattress, lowering his head to his hands. _Bryallyn!_ he screamed inside his head. _Oh, Maker protect her as I cannot!_ He did not notice the three men who removed Devlyn's body, nor the one who remained behind to bandage up Nathaniel's arm. _Bryallyn!_

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Bryallyn was snapped awake from sleep at the sound of her husband's agonized cry. Sitting up, her eyes darting frantically around the room, she searched for him. "Nathaniel?" she whispered. _Oh Maker, please keep him safe! _Sliding out of bed, she reached for her robe first, when she heard Constant suddenly begin growling fiercely near the doorway. Turning, she called softly, "Constant, hush!"

The mabari's growl became deeper, fiercer, and Bryallyn realized something was very wrong. Dropping the robe, she grabbed her armor and pulled it on quickly. There had been something in the dream … in Nathaniel's voice as he cried out to her … and she took that, combined with Constant's reaction, as warning. She was just reaching for her bow when the door burst open and a servant came stumbling in ... blood streaming down his back as a bolt ran through his chest. Before she could say a word, Constant was out the door and viciously attacking the enemy. Bryallyn nocked an arrow before rounding the edge of the door, her arm raised, the bowstring taut.

Once the men were down, Bryallyn scanned her surroundings. The doors were all closed, only five men were inside … all now dead either by her bow or by Constant. "Good boy," she murmured as she knelt beside the mabari to turn over one of the bodies. When the soldier was face up again, his shield beside him, Bryallyn gasped in confused recognition. "Amaranthine?" Bryallyn rose to her feet and hurried towards her mother's door. "Mother?" she called, pounding at the barricade. "Mother, are you all right? Is Father in there with you?"

The door was yanked open with such force that Bryallyn briefly thought that perhaps a whole contingent of men were inside, but she found only Eleanor Cousland standing there, dressed in her armor and armed with her bow. "Darling! I heard fighting outside and I feared the worst! Are you hurt at all?"

Bryallyn shook her head, hugging her mother briefly in relief of her safety. "No, Mother, I'm fine." She stepped quickly inside her mother's room, searching for her father. "What's going on?"

"I was woken by a scream," Eleanor explained as she led her daughter towards a chest and opened it, handing some of the contents to Bryallyn while she spoke. "There were men in the hall, so I barred the door."

Bryallyn was putting the items into her waist pouches when she heard her mother say, "Did you see their shields? Those are Howe's men! Why would they be attacking us?"

Bryallyn felt as if the blood rushed out of her at that moment in time. _The attack at the lodge … the separation of Nathaniel, Fergus and Father … the attack upon Nathaniel …_ "He - he's betrayed Father! He attacks while our troops are gone!" she cried, reaching out to grasp her mother's arm. "He … he's had them attack us here, probably has some going after Fergus … Mother, I was woken by a vision of Nathaniel under attack as well!"

Eleanor rose and squeezed her daughter's arm. "Now darling, you don't know that for a fact. Do not borrow trouble .. we have enough as it is!" She led Bryallyn back out into the hallway. "You … you don't think that his troops were delayed … on purpose?" She saw Bryallyn nod. "That bastard! I'll cut his throat myself!" Eleanor gestured towards the door leading out of the living quarters. "We need to find your father. He never came to bed."

"Oh Maker!" Bryallyn breathed, stopping suddenly as they neared Fergus' door. "Mother, we need to check on Oriana and Oren!" The two women rushed to the door, Constant pushing his way before them, and the three found the door was not completely shut. It opened at the mabari's nudging, and the full impact of the sight, even in the dimness, was not lost upon Bryallyn. She heard her mother gasp, heard Constant's immediate whine of concern to find Oren lying so still and quiet on the floor. Turning, Bryallyn began guiding her mother towards the doorway. "Mother, no, don't look at this!" she said briskly. She felt Eleanor fighting her, and Bryallyn signalled Constant to assist. "Mother, go! We can do nothing for them now," Bryallyn reminded her, "but we _can_ warn Father!"

"Andraste's Mercy!" Eleanor breathed roughly as they exited the room.

Bryallyn closed the door behind her, protecting their bodies from what she did not know. Pausing a moment as she latched the barrier, Bryallyn sent a prayer to the Maker for their journey to the Fade. Turning then, she armed herself with her bow and glanced at her mother, a newfound and harder resolution settling over her. "Are you ready, Mother? I suspect there may be men waiting on the other side of the door."

Eleanor nodded and both women's attentions were caught as Constant began growling deep in his throat. Bryallyn gave him a signal, and the hound went silent. With one final word to her mother, Bryallyn said, "Mother, I need your focus here! We can do nothing for Oriana and Oren now, but we can avenge them!" Eleanor nodded once more. "I am with you, my darling," she finally managed.

Bryallyn cracked the door the tiniest bit at first, placing her ear to the portal to see if she could hear anyone beyond. What she got instead confirmed her greatest fears.

"Is it done?"

"Yeah, the Antivan bitch and her kid are gone. We've done our part … what about the rest?"

"We have to kill the Arl's daughter-in-law … The Teyrna is to be brought to the Arl himself … alive. He's got plans for her I guess."

Bryallyn waved her mother over to listen as well. The two women exchanged a glance at this comment and Bryallyn noted the anger transforming her mother's features. _Good, anger will help her focus ..._.

"And what about the Arl's whelp?"

"Oi! The one that married the Cousland girl?"

"Aye … if he survives …."

"Nah, it's all planned. 'E won't make it to Kirkwall alive. The Arl … 'e's got it all planned out ya see …."

It took all of her force of will to not cry out at this. It was one thing to dream that her husband was under attack, but to have reinforcement in words … and by men who served her husband's father no less …. Bryallyn looked up at her mother, searching for some sort of comfort. She saw that Eleanor was concerned, felt her mother's hand as she squeezed Bryallyn's shoulder gently. "As you told me, my darling," Eleanor whispered in Bryallyn's ear, "we must focus. We'll tell your Father when we find him. We'll find some way to make sure Nathaniel stays safe!"

Bryallyn pulled the door open slowly then, she and her mother remaining behind the panel, Constant waiting to the right side until the opening was clear. Peeking around the edge, Bryallyn noted the first movements by soldiers on the other side and signalled Constant to attack. "Now!" she hissed at her mother.

The two archers moved quickly, taking out those soldiers that the mabari did not as they moved across the next section of the living quarters. When they finally reached the door on the far side, Bryallyn glanced down at Constant, seeking his opinion, and when he did not signal that there was immediate danger, she opened the door. Leading her mother down the hall and through the atrium, she paused as a figure ran around the corner, crying out in alarm and concern. "Stand!" Bryallyn ordered him when she realized he was one of the servants from the castle. "We are Couslands! We stand and defend what is ours!"

"Y-yes, m'lady!"

"Hurry, darling," Eleanor was telling Bryallyn as they made their way through the keep. "The treasury! We must reach the Cousland blade! It cannot be allowed to fall into Howe's hands. It should be used to sever that snake's head!"

Bryallyn took a sudden right, leading down towards the treasury. "Do you have the key Mother?" she asked. When Eleanor handed it to her, she made quick work of the lock and the one on the inside to the vault. Grabbing the Cousland blade as well as her father's shield, Bryallyn also retrieved a couple of daggers and placed one at her waist and one inside her boot. Turning, the returned to her mother's side. "Right," she told her. "Let's go find Father."

They continued a circuitous route through the keep as some passages were blocked by debris and fire. What normally would take them only a few short minutes seemed to now take forever. Finally, they entered the main hall to find several Howe soldiers fighting against Highever men. Bryallyn and her mother again used their longer range attacks to lend assistance, this time concentrating on the mage near the doorway, and leaving the other soldiers to the Highever men and Constant.

When the battle was over, Bryallyn stepped forward to find Rory Gilmore issuing orders to hold the doors closed to the Highever men. "Rory!" Bryallyn gasped as she reached his side. "Thank the Maker you are safe!"

"Praise the Maker you two are unharmed!" Rory told her in obvious relief when he saw the women approach. "When I reailzed what was happening it was all I could to shut the gates." He glanced over towards the door where several Highever men had braced themselves in an effort to keep the barricade shut from the pounding on the other side. He signaled for more men to assist. "But they won't keep Howe's men out for long I'm afraid." He searched both women's faces then. Glancing down at Bryallyn, he told her, "Your Father and the Grey Warden were trying to make it to you -"

"Howe's men reached us first," Eleanor interjected at that point. "Oriana and Oren were killed … butchered."

Bryallyn turned her attention towards her friend. "Rory, where is my father now? We need to find him." The look of dread upon his face caused Bryallyn's stomach to lurch. _Oh no!_

"My lady, when last I saw him I'm afraid he was gravely injured. I urged him not to go back into the keep, but he was determined to find you …. He said he would head towards the kitchen … wait for you there. Go … we shall hold the doors so that you can escape."

"Rory, come with us!" Bryallyn told him. "We will need your help -"

"No," the auburn haired giant told her quietly, "I shall remain here and do my duty as I have always done." His eyes caught hers and held them for a long moment. "Please go while you have the chance," he told her. "Get away safely so that you may seek vengeance upon those who deserve it. I will do my duty to give you the time necessary."

Bryallyn sighed heavily, felt her heart ache with the knowledge that yet another fine member of her family would inevitably be taken from her, but she nodded. She knew this man well. Rory's dedication to duty and to the Cousland family was well known among those in Highever's keep. Reaching out quickly to give him a warrior's clasp wrist to wrist, she told him, "Thank you, my dear friend, for all your service. It will always be remembered." Then without further words, she turned and began leading her mother away. With a whistle, Constant was at her side.

Closing the door to the hall behind her, Bryallyn motioned Constant forward. "Be on watch, boy!" she whispered. Her mother she kept behind her.

"The kitchen," Eleanor whispered. "The servant's exit there. Your Father will be waiting!"

Bryallyn nodded as she lead the way.

They did not run into any further resistance until they turned down the hallway off which the kitchen branched. There, another group of Howe's men awaited them. This group, however, seemed armed and armored better than most. However, as they had done all along (was this a testament to their style of training, or simply a fluke?), Bryallyn and her mother remained back while Constant closed in on the intruders. It was a hard fought battle, one that took more out of them than Bryallyn wished, but in the end she, her mother and Constant were still standing. Only once she was certain their opponents no longer posed a threat did Bryallyn reach for the door handle.

Inside the kitchen, the fire in the hearth gave out just enough light for her to see two bodies lying on the floor. "Nan!" she gasped, rushing to the older woman's side. Constant approached then and he, too, emitted a whine of despair. Behind her, Bryallyn heard her mother move forward. Eleanor knelt beside the fallen women, reached out to place Nan's hands upon her chest and whispered, "Maker guide you safely, my friend!"

Rising once more, Bryallyn took a step towards the door to the larder. Inside, there was a secret servant's exit, only some of the servants inside the keep were even aware of its existence. Throwing the door open, her bow lifted and armed, Bryallyn entered the room ….

"Bry! Ellie!"

Eleanor hurried forward into the darkened room at the sound of her husband's voice, kneeling beside him, while Bryallyn closed the door behind them. She signalled Constant to remain near the door, listening for intruders. Turning back towards her father then, Bryallyn heard her mother saying, "Bryce! You're bleeding!"

"Howe's men … found me first. Almost … did me in right there …."

Bryallyn knelt beside her father as well. She glanced first at the injury in his side, unwilling to acknowledge what she was seeing, and then into his eyes … and was faced with a truth she did not want to accept. "Father, you must stand so we can get you out of here," she told him.

"She's right, Bryce," Eleanor added, an almost desperate quality to her voice. "We'll escape through the servant's exit and find you healing magic."

His eyes still holding his daughter's, Bryce patted Bryallyn's hand and shook his head. "I cannot," he managed. "I will not survive the standing. You and your mother must escape … tell Fergus …"

"Father -"

Bryce squeezed his daughter's hand firmly. "Find … Nathaniel!" he told her. "He … he's as much … a victim in this as we are …."

Bryallyn could not control a shudder that ran through her. "We … we overheard Howe's men talking," she told him. "They plan to attack Nathaniel aboard ship!"

Eleanor, still attempting to tend to her husband's wounds, nodded her agreement with Bryallyn's assessment. "We must get you to safety, Bryce! If we are to retake Highever from Howe and his men, we will need you leading the way."

They were interrupted then by a soft whine of recognition from Constant and the opening of the door as Warden Commander Duncan entered the larder to join them. The two men shared a long look before Bryce said, "Duncan, my friend, I find I must beg a favor …." Duncan nodded in understanding. "Take my daughter and my wife … get them to safety …."

"No, Bryce!" Eleanor protested. "I will not leave you." Glancing up at Duncan, she told him, "Take Bryallyn to safety, please. Warnings must be given to Fergus … and to Nathaniel. They are victims in this evil plan as well …."

"Mother, no!" Bryallyn cried. "You and Father -"

"Bry," Bryce whispered hoarsely, lifting a hand to her face, "you know I will not … survive. Your mother and I have had a good life, have lived to see both our children grow … take families of their own."

Eleanor reached out to touch Bryallyn's arm. "Your Father is right, darling. I will stay here, buy you and Duncan time to get out." Eleanor lifted her hand to her daughter's cheek. "Go, darling girl. Now. Survive!"

Bryallyn did not try to hide the tears streaming down her face. Instead, she leaned forward to kiss Bryce's cheek, then her mother's. "My fierce … girl," Bryce whispered to her, "be strong! Remember … no matter your married name, you …are a Cousland ..."

Bryallyn sniffed through her personal pain. "And we Couslands always do our duty," she whispered back before rising to her feet. Turning away from her parents, knowing their inevitable fate, was the hardest thing Bryallyn ever had to do. She had to catch herself at one point from turning back, falling to her knees and begging them to escape with her. Instead, swallowing past her agony she signalled Constant to move on ahead. Somehow Bryallyn managed to tell Duncan in a hoarse voice, "This way," before she began the steps that took her on the longest walk she had ever had to make in her twenty-two years.

* * *

Nathaniel awoke with a start, his heart pounding as the memories of his dream began to fade. Glancing around him, he noticed one of the Highever men … _Trinion_, he recalled, sitting nearby. "Ah, my lord," the man said giving Nathaniel a grim smile. "Are you feeling better now?"

Nathaniel frowned. When Trinion pointed at his arm, Nathaniel realized that the man had finished bandaging it, most likely while he was sleeping. _But when did I fall asleep?_ Frowning, Nathaniel struggled into a seated position on the bed. "What happened? How long was I asleep? Where's Dev?" he demanded.

"The traitor," Trinion announced, his voice dripping with venom, "has been dealt with. You have no fears there, my lord. You've been asleep the better part of a day. Grayson," Nathaniel recognized the name as belonging to one of the other men, "detected that a poison had been used on the traitor's blade. You were fortunate that he did not apply it correctly."

Nathaniel's eyes narrowed. _Dev used poison? Why? Why would he even do this?_ And then Trinion's words seemed to take purchase. _The better part of a day!_ Groaning, Nathaniel struggled to reach for his clothing, but Trinion pushed him back. "No, my lord," the man instructed. "You must rest. We will be arriving in Kirkwall soon and you will need your strength." He reached over at the small table and handed Nathaniel a small writing desk, some parchment and a quill. "We are aware of what the traitor told you, my lord. Write a message - the captain said he will be turning around shortly to head back to Highever. He will see that the warning is delivered to the keep."

Nathaniel could only stare at the parchment. _But it's already too late …._ Then, reaching for the quill, he began to write. Perhaps, if nothing else, it would ease the minds of the Highever men, prove to them that he knew what should be done and was fit for command though in reality he felt as if his life and his future had been ripped from him. As he wrote, he noticed Trinion standing to leave. "Trinion," he called, his voice harsh with anger and pain, a dark mask falling into place over his face as the taste and feel of betrayal settled upon him, "gather the others and bring them here. We have some planning to do. We must build an army to go and take back Highever and return the Couslands to their rightful places." _If there are any Couslands left …._

"Aye, my lord," Trinion replied, a feral smile moving into place.

_Dearest Bry,_

_It is with great fear and trepidation I write this, for I believe I am too late. We all should have listened more to your concerns, my wife. There was a traitor, one who should have been seen but who masked his efforts so well that even those closest to him did not notice, and for that you will forever have my profoundest apologies._

_I have been informed that we all were targets - me, you, your parents, even Fergus and his family. If this arrives to you in time, if you have enough advance warning, prepare my love! He will stop at nothing. An attack has already been made against me, aboard ship. I survived, thanks in large part to your father's men. Worry not for me, but for yourself and the rest of your loved ones for it is they who are the true targets._

_I fear my alarm is too late, that I have lost you only just as I found you. If this is the case, I shall do all within my power to bring justice to those responsible. Know this. If by some miracle you are spared, know that I shall find you once again, and we shall be together for all eternity._

_Yours ever faithfully,_

_Nathaniel_

Nathaniel folded the missive, set his personal seal to it, and set it aside as the men returned then, the four of them crowding into the small cabin. In addition to Trinion and Grayson, there were Nyles and Padraig. Seating himself more firmly into a sitting position, Nathaniel eyed each man individually. "I fear," he told them severely, "that my father has made a move against the Teyrn and Highever. If I am right, when we return to Highever, we will be facing off against his men." He saw the scowls on these four Highever soldiers deepen. "My wife, the Teyrn and Teyrna, Fergus' own family as well as your own friends and family are in grave danger."

"What are your intentions, my lord?" Padraig asked. He appeared to be the youngest of the group, but Nathaniel knew him to be a truly loyal man to Bryce Cousland.

"My name might be my father's," Nathaniel replied quietly, "but my heart belongs to the Couslands. We return. We scout out the situation. We take our findings to the king and determine the next steps from there." He sighed heavily. "I will not suggest that our task will be easy. If the things I have seen and heard tonight are true, we have a long, hard battle ahead of us." He lifted his eyes to each one of them, his determination obvious for them to see. "I will tell you that I have no intention of allowing my father to get away with this treachery. You may fight with me or against me as you choose," he added, "but I will tell you this: I _will_ find my wife and return her and her family to their rightful places. Of that there can be no doubt. Any questions?"

Trinion straightened, surveying his companions silently and quickly. "We are with you, my lord," he assured Nathaniel. "When we return to Highever, it will be as a unified unit."

Nathaniel felt a wave of relief pass through him. He had feared that perhaps these men of Highever would not stand beside him, but it now seemed that they would be willing to do so. "Right," he told them. "When we get to Kirkwall, before we sail back, I wish to seek out assistance. My former lord is there, he will provide men to assist us. Once we have a small force, we shall secure a ship to return. Any questions?" Nathaniel looked around again. "Good. We have plans to make … how far from Kirkwall are we?"

Nyles' deep voice rumbled, "We should arrive on the morning tide."

Nathaniel nodded. "Good. Let's start making more detailed plans then." Nathaniel reached for his pack and nodded as Trinion handed it to him. Retrieving one of the maps Bryce Cousland had lent him, he began to go over the lay of the land with them ….


	26. The Great Escape

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those who have added alerts and favs including: NorthernBreeze, Shakespira, Miltonia, celtic-twinkie, ProsePrincess and jen4306._

_Thanks to my wonderful betas for this story: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__. Also thanks to Liso66 for hopping on chat with us last night! It was fun!_

_HUGE thanks to Erynnar for her creation and use of the runes, the packs and the whole "secret room" atmosphere of the escape from Highever! We've had so many discussions as to the "logical" way the escape from Highever might have occurred … Thank you for allowing me to share in it!_

_**A/N:**__ Songs for Inspiration: "Don't Turn Around" by Ace of Base, "Point of Know Return" by Kansas, "All Things Considered" by Yankee Grey, and "Eagleheart" by Stratovarious. (Oh, and of course the theme song from the movie The Great Escape!)_

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As she led Duncan and Constant away from the larder, Bryallyn felt her emotions closing down on her. She felt detached almost from her surroundings, almost as if she was moving through a thick fog. She could hear Constant's heavy canine panting ahead of her, the sounds of soldiers trying to break in through the kitchen door behind them. When she finally reached the secret panel, she heard Duncan's insistent voice warn her, "We must leave _now_ if we are to escape …."

Bryallyn slid her hand along the wall to find the trigger. The moment it was released, the barricade opened and she signalled first Constant and then the Commander through. Bryallyn brought up the rear, closing the secret portal behind the three of them and at the same time, cutting them off from the sounds of battle behind them. Reaching out to the wall to her right, Bryallyn found the pair of dwarven runes that, when touched, emitted a soft light with which they could see. The tiny room was suddenly lit with enough light for Bryallyn to search the shelves, pulling packs down in rapid succession, searching for items of value. She moved quickly, adeptly, pack by pack. Grabbing two of the canvas bags, she handed them to Duncan. "Take these," she instructed, her tone of voice brooking no argument. She then reached for two that together looked almost like saddlebags for a horse but smaller. These she attached to Constant. Bryallyn then reached for two more packs: one which she shouldered immediately, the second she hesitated, glancing back over her shoulder. Feeling unshed tears building behind her eyes, she shouldered the second pack as well and then reached for one more which she carried loosely in her hand.

Dousing the light, Bryallyn removed them from the shelf and placed them in the last bag. "Follow me," she told Duncan as she moved around him and continued forward. Slowly, surely, she led her companions to the outer door. Pausing a long moment, she reached out for Duncan's arm. Squeezing it, she said, "We have one of three choices now. This door opens along the outer west wall of the keep. To the west is a line of trees where we can run to take shelter or hide our progress. To the right it leads to some of the practice fields, down along the coast, and from there along the coastline. To the left leads directly into Highever town. Undoubtedly it will take us closer to the attacking troops instead of away, but with all of the confusion right now, we may be able to sneak past them." Bryallyn lifted her hand against the wall in front of them. A moment later the stone wall shifted to the left with a soft scrape of stone against stone; the whoosh of fresh air assaulting their senses along with the smell of burning ash; the shouts and yells of alarm and terror from some, battle cries and an enjoyment of the attack from others. Glancing up at the Warden, Bry whispered, "Which way?"

Duncan glanced quickly in all three directions, assessing the situation, evaluating his choices. "If we head through the trees will we be able to get around and out of the town unseen?" he asked quickly.

Bryallyn nodded. "It will take us longer, but eventually it leads us to the city wall which we can follow around to the gates. My only concern is that the additional time may be enough for Howe's soldiers to be better organized, they might be able to recognize us as escapees from the castle by then."

"If we head directly through town, won't they notice us now?" Duncan challenged.

Bryallyn reached for one of her bags. Opening the sack, she pulled out a heavy, old and worn cloak which she donned, pulling the hood up to hide her features. "In one of your bags should be one as well. It may not be much, but given the confusion at the moment, it will give us enough time to get through and escape I think."

As she finished, Duncan found his cloak and pulled it on, hooking the clasp at his throat before pulling up his own hood. Bryallyn felt a moment of panic grasp at her throat as she recognized the cloak as one belonging to her father. _Papa! _ "Through the town and quickly," Duncan agreed.

Recovering herself a moment later, Bryallyn touched a stone on the outside wall which triggered the closure of the wall behind them. Then giving Constant a hand signal to remain at her side and silent, the three began following the wall that surrounded the keep around until they reached the front edge. Here, the sounds of attack, the screams of the innocent were louder, stronger, more terrifying to Bryallyn than she could possibly have imagined, but she forced it all to the side for the moment. They had to focus on their escape, not about those for whom they could offer no assistance. She peeked around the corner of the wall, noting the location of all of Howe's soldiers and equipment, and then stepped back, bumping into Duncan who had leaned forward over her to do the same. Once both were behind the wall again, Bryallyn glanced up to him, noting that he had unsheathed his longsword and dagger. "Follow me," he told her sharply as he moved to take the point. Bryallyn reached for _Wicked Grace_ and adjusted her quiver so that she could readily reach the missiles should they be needed. Constant remained behind his mistress, bringing up the rear.

Duncan led her and Constant through the winding streets of the town below the keep, weaving in and out of the shadows, bypassing groups of soldiers as they marched along in squads. It became clear that many of the townsfolk were in the same predicament as those in the keep, and Bryallyn felt her heart breaking at the sights and sounds. _We failed our people,_ she thought as she felt the cold trails of tears roll down her cheeks. _They gave us their love and loyalty, and we failed them when they needed us most!_ Bryallyn knew it would be something that would take her a long time to process and get over, if she ever did.

At one point, as they threesome neared the city gates and the road to freedom beyond, Bryallyn saw the shape of one of the town elders as he was being held against the outer wall of his home at sword's point while Howe's men were searching through the building. She gasped when he looked right at her, recognition dawning on his face. Bryallyn reached out to alert Duncan, but before she could, the elder began arguing and protesting, about what she could not tell as the wind carried their voices in another direction, but she was intelligent enough to realize that the man was offering them the distraction they needed to move beyond these soldiers and get outside the gates to make a run for it. With one last look of thanks in the man's direction, Bryallyn gestured Duncan towards the gates and she and Constant followed. The gates themselves were closed, but through some lack of judgement? Miscommunication? Or just plain huge error on Howe's soldiers' parts, no one was guarding it. Bryallyn moved in front of Duncan towards the smaller door, the one that allowed individuals through as opposed to the larger portcullis, and she produced a key from one of the packs she carried. Quickly she unlocked it, gestured Duncan and Constant through, and then followed, pausing for just a moment to re-lock the door behind them. She hesitated before turning to face her companions, taking a deep breath as she glanced back up the road leading to the keep where she could still see evidence of the attack, the destruction and hear the sound of those left behind. She allowed this to burn deep into her memory, swearing a silent oath that they would be avenged, this would not be allowed to go unpunished. _Never forget!_ She felt a strong but gentle hand upon her shoulder then and knew it was Duncan. Her voice tight with hidden pain, she told him, "Let's go," before turning to walk away from her home.

The first few days on the run they traveled mostly at night using the nearly full moon as their light source. At this point, they were more concerned about discovery and felt that travel at night, despite it's dangers even with the brightness of the moon guiding their way, was the best option. During the days they would find a large grouping of rocks, an indentation of a cave, some place in which they could hide relatively safely until the security of darkness fell once more. There was no guarantee that some of the Howe soldiers hadn't discovered their escape and somehow figured out their direction (they certainly had not had time to cover their tracks) and they knew they had to remain cautious. On the fourth night, as they began turning their way southwards, Bryallyn discovered their destination.

"We go to Ostagar," Duncan told her. "The king is there, many other forces … your brother and Highever troops …. There will be safety there, in numbers if nothing else."

Bryallyn's breath caught, a tight band constricting across her chest. _Fergus! _"How long will it take us by foot?" she asked. "We must warn him! Howe sent men after Nathaniel as well. If he did that to his own son, imagine what he could do to my brother!"

Duncan nodded reassuringly and replied, "It will take us three weeks to get to Ostagar by foot. If we were to obtain horses along the way …."

Bryallyn felt her shoulders slump at Duncan's comment. Horses were so rare across Ferelden, it would be impossible for them to obtain mounts and even if they did, it would be a rare enough sight that it would mark their presence to others instead of keeping them hidden. "I understand," she replied reluctantly. "Taking a chance on giving ourselves away wouldn't help Fergus any either."

Their path took them down the west side of Lake Calenhad along the Imperial Highway, though when they made camp, they put enough distance between themselves and the highway so that no other travelers would note their presence. As they continued their journey, Bryallyn felt herself beginning to give in to the depression that had been haunting at her heels as they departed Highever. Every voice, each unique face, would haunt her as she slept, their ghostly images and voices taunting and teasing her so that she would wake up in a cold sweat. She insisted upon sharing the watch with Duncan when they would make their camp, hoping that the simple chores, the necessity of focus and concentration on something other than what had occurred would help her recovery. But as each day passed, each of the tormenting visions revisited, Bryallyn felt her body beginning to protest physically as well. By their second week on the road, she had lost so much sleep that she was becoming physically ill … she could not keep food down, she had dark circles under her eyes, she became listless and her health began affecting their travel speed.

_Bryce's look of pride and joy the day when Bryallyn was seven and Fergus was twelve … when Bryallyn called to her animal friends to save her brother's life from kidnappers …._

_The twinkle of delight in Eleanor's eyes as they competed against each other, year after year … none more memorable than the day that Bryallyn had surpassed Eleanor's skill with the bow …._

_The face of her beloved hero, the brother she had admired for so long, the day that he had officially welcomed her into the ranks of Highever's soldiers, proudly leading her around and introducing her to those she did not know … the cheers of the soldiers as they welcomed her to their ranks as Fergus led them on …._

_The day that Bryallyn had admitted to Oriana that she was in love with Nathaniel and the squeal of delight the Antivan had released, such a contrast to her usual quiet and reserved demeanor …._

_The unbridled joy Oren's face would display whenever Bryallyn and Constant would play "Kill the Dragon" with him …._

_Ser Roland Gilmore … the complete and utter gentlemen around all the women of Highever, no matter their station, whether they were in the keep or in the town …._

_Nan's instant ire as she caught Bryallyn and Fergus sneaking out of the kitchen with some of the latest batch of baked treats … before giving in and allowing them each two or three apiece …._

_Nathaniel …._

Bryallyn's heart dropped as the time that she and her husband had spent together over the years began running over and over in her mind like the rereading of a favorite book …. _In the garden at the royal palace in Denerim … dancing together … sitting and talking … competing in archery … the day on the battlements when Nathaniel had let Bryallyn know just how he truly felt about her … the day of their wedding when Bryallyn had first laid eyes upon him standing beside Mother Mallol …._

Bryallyn felt Constant nudging his muzzle against her back, his soft whining breaking into the misery consuming her. Turning over on her bedroll, Bryallyn rested her head on her hound's chest as she cried softly, "Oh Constant, what will I do without him? Without the others?" To the mabari's credit he remained still, offering soft whining bursts in sympathy and his solid presence for comfort.

"How could he _do_ it?" she sobbed. "How could that bastard kill his own son?"

So engulfed in her pain and confusion was Bryallyn that she did not notice Duncan standing nearby taking it all in. The Warden Commander and the mabari shared a long, knowing glance, and Duncan knew then that he would ask her. He'd waited … out of respect for his long-time friendship with Bryce, out of concern for Bryallyn's state of mind. But Duncan suspected that she was beginning to make her first steps to move beyond her pain … that she would agree to become a Warden because it would give her life focus when she needed it most. _I should team you up with Alistair,_ Duncan mused. _If anyone might be able to relate to you and your pain, he should … and perhaps that humor of his might be healing for you …._

About a week out from Ostagar, as they rounded the southern end of Lake Calenhad, Duncan finally approached Bryallyn. They had made camp for the evening and he was returning from hunting for their evening meal when Bryallyn spotted him approaching her position near the fire. She took the two animals and began cleaning them, her mood quiet and restrained. Most evenings since their flight from Highever, Duncan had left her to her own thoughts. This evening, he took a seat beside her, taking the animals once she finished cleaning them and preparing them on a spit so they would roast. "Have you given thought to what you will do once we reach Ostagar," he asked her in a voice that was deceptively quiet and calm.

Bryallyn remained silent for a while choosing to keep her thoughts close to herself. Silently, she acknowledged the question, had been expecting it almost since their travels had turned them south. However, she had yet to come up with an answer that she felt was satisfactory to herself let alone anyone else.

After a time, she shifted position so that she could look at the Warden Commander. Eying him closely, she stated in a quiet voice, "You want me to become a Warden."

Duncan gave her a nod of agreement. "Our need is great, yes," he admitted to her. "But at this point, I am not prepared to force the issue. I would ask, however," he continued, his deep voice taking on the tone of one used to stating his arguments for any given situation, "that you take into consideration several mitigating factors. First, there is a Blight upon us. Grey Wardens are essential in the defeat of the Blight. Though there are Wardens throughout Thedas, our numbers here in Ferelden are small."

Bryallyn's head ducked in acknowledgement. Like most her age, she grew up hearing about the Wardens and their return to Ferelden when Maric took the throne after the Occupation.

"Second," Duncan continued, "During times such as these, everyone must do their duty. You know this - your father has taught you the importance of duty, of doing whatever it takes to get the job done."

Bryallyn's head nodded again, though she looked away, attempting to hide the tears that were leaking through. "Couslands always do their duty," she whispered.

Duncan nodded, recognizing her words as Bryce's mantra. Quietly, he added, "And thirdly, Bryallyn, though you may not feel it now, you will find a way through your current pain. Having something to focus on, something to give you purpose and make you feel as if your life is worth living for will aide you through that process." He saw her look up at him then and he held her gaze. "Trust me, I know of what I speak."

Bryallyn found that, knowing what she already knew of the order, she could not find fault with his arguments. However, she was loathe to jump into a major life-changing decision without giving it some serious thought. "Do I have to give you my answer now?"

Duncan rose to his feet and began preparing to take the watch. Silently, he understood that she had already made her choice. Vocally, he told her, "No, of course not. I will wait to ask you to make your final decision when we reach Ostagar."

Bryallyn nodded as she turned towards her bedroll. "Thank you," she whispered after his retreating form. As she settled down for the night, she found herself thinking of what Duncan had said, the arguments he had used. She knew he was right, that her family would have reminded her to do her duty as a Cousland if they had been present. But more than that, she found herself focusing on her husband, what he might have advised her had he been with her.

"_You are a Cousland, this is true," he might have said, "and I would not expect you to go against the way you were raised. You know the difference between right and wrong, Bry. Do not let anyone push you into something you feel is wrong. Just the same, do not go against what you know is right."_

Bryallyn's hand snaked up to the charm she wore at her neck, the one that the fortune teller had given to her. Fisting her hand around it, she squeezed until she could feel the bite of the tooth cutting into her palm. _Oh, Nathaniel, what I would give to have you here with me …. Your quiet strength, your outward calm, your steady presence. I wonder if you ever knew what you did for me … I don't know that I can be as strong as you … but I will try …._

True to his word, Duncan did not press the issue with Bryallyn. The remainder of their journey was uneventful with only one stop in a village large enough for Duncan to post some messages to Ostagar ahead of their arrival. When they arrived at the remote outpost, and just before descending the hills to enter the ruins, Duncan pulled Bryallyn aside for a moment. "Have you an answer for me?" he asked gently.

Bryallyn found herself looking up at him, her features filled with pain but beginning to harden against that. "My first concern must be warning my brother. If he is lost, I am the sole remaining Cousland," she mused. She could hear her father's voice in her head, reminding her of her duty. She thought of her husband, the vision she'd had, the words she'd overheard. _Nathaniel, what should I do?_ But he was no longer there for her to ask his opinion, lean upon for suggestions, offer her his open and honest advice. She felt as if half of her was missing ...

Taking a deep breath, Bryallyn glanced out across the ruins below them, surveying the makeshift camp she found there; people willing to risk their lives to save those who were not able to fight. She recalled quite suddenly the day she had gone hunting with Nathaniel, Delilah and Thomas, of her attempts to make sure Delilah could defend herself. Nathaniel might be gone, but Delilah was not (Bryallyn certainly hoped at any rate). If she wasn't already a target for her father, she could potentially become one for the darkspawn. Others who were less than able to defend themselves as well. _You have a gift, Pup,_ Bryce had explained to her once. _You can defend those who cannot defend themselves. As soldiers, as Couslands we must always do our duty. And at the top of our list of duties is defending those who cannot defend themselves._

"I will become a Warden, yes," Bryallyn finally announced to Duncan before turning to start the descent into the camp, Constant ever at her side.


	27. In Defense of Self

_Over the next few weeks I will be posting only twice a week (due to holidays, Real Life, etc.). Still, I hope you continue to enjoy the story!_

_Happy Holidays to all wherever you live! I wish you a safe and prosperous New Year as well!_

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, and those who have set alerts and favs as well including: Shakespira, Evalyne, Liso66, Eva Galana, ProsePrincess, Northern Breeze, jen4306, Vylreth, Miltonia, Piceron and Alpha Cucumber._

_A very, very special thank you to __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__ without whose help I would be completely lost. You ladies are the most fabulous betas! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ….._

_**A/N:**__ So, now we really start going AU with the story. I hope you enjoy the idea that has been tickling my brain for so long! It will be a bit of a long road, but remember: the Blight was not defeated overnight! ;)_

_Songs for Inspiration: "Fight Fire With Fire" by Kansas, "This is War" by Thirty Seconds To Mars, "Mighty Wings" by Cheap Trick._

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When _La Gaviota (The Seagull)_ docked in Kirkwall, Nathaniel disembarked first, leading the men from the docks, through the city and towards the city gates that would put them on the road leading to the estate of Doran Antell. Though Devlyn had assured Nathaniel that he was the only attacker, Nathaniel now knew better than to trust _any_ word his father gave to _any_one. His dark features now sporting a more severe look, Nathaniel kept his guard at a high level, his eyes constantly scanning ahead, around, afar. His senses were attuned to his surroundings and he kept the men with him close by. They, too, were on full alert. _The bastard will not catch me or the others unawares again!_ Nathaniel swore.

They made their way through town without drawing undue attention, making a quick stop in the marketplace to purchase foodstuffs for their journey and any other last minute items that they felt they might need along the road. Though he had been here before, the sounds, smells and sights familiar, Nathaniel could take little comfort in it. Though his focus was centered on survival, he still felt the pull of concern for Bryallyn, the Couslands and all back at Highever who had unwittingly become targets. _Bry, love, you were right!_ he admitted silently. _There was something more at work behind all of this. I should have listened to you …._

"We are ready, my lord," Trinion announced quietly, approaching Nathaniel from his left.

Nathaniel remained still for a moment as his thoughts returned and settled. "Let's go then," Nathaniel replied at last, giving Trinion a nod and pushing himself away from the stone wall of the building he had been leaning against. "We have no time to waste."

Trinion watched Nathaniel carefully as the younger man took the point. Ever since the betrayal by his second, Trinion had seen the younger man's demeanor darkening, hardening. Not that Trinion begrudged him his anger and hatred; far from it. Yet, Trinion knew that if his lord lost himself in this manner, it might become near impossible to return to this point without some sort of repercussions. As they marched northwards out of the city of Kirkwall, Trinion found himself wondering if he ought to say something.

When the group paused near mid-day, Nathaniel managed to down some of the jerked meat and bread that they had purchased in town, but he spent the vast majority of his break pacing around the edges of their makeshift camp. They were an hour, maybe two at most, from the Antell estate. For many reasons, Nathaniel found himself nervous. He alone knew the true significance of the heraldic device that he and Bryallyn had taken from their attackers at the lodge. But now, given all that had transpired since aboard ship and the suggestions of what had happened at Highever, Nathaniel couldn't help but wonder if the lord he had served faithfully had been turned into a victim of Rendon Howe as well.

Nathaniel was interrupted in his musings when he felt a strong hand at his shoulder. He detected the scent of tobacco and mint leaves nearby and pressed his lips into a thin semblance of a smile. "Are you ready, Trinion?" he asked, his stormy eyes still locked onto the direction of their final destination as he spoke to the man.

"We are, my lord," he agreed.

"Good. We are only a couple of hours away. We should have some answers by this afternoon."

Trinion nodded. He was about to question Nathaniel regarding his earlier thoughts and observations, but Nathaniel turned and called the other men over. "I need to explain a few things before we depart," he told them solemnly while retrieving his pack so that he could show them the heraldic device. Nathaniel took the time to explain in more detail the attack that had occurred at the hunting lodge, the meaning of the device and who it belonged to.

Looking at each man individually, he added, "Given what nearly happened to me aboard ship; what has inevitably occurred at Highever and possibly even at Ostagar, I think we may be facing a situation where Lord Antell has become a victim of my father as well." He stopped speaking for a long moment, allowing time for comments.

The four men looked at each other first, then three nodded at Trinion. "My lord," Trinion began, "based upon what you have told us, and the briefing that we received from Teyrn Cousland before our departure, we cannot help but agree with your assessment. Teyrn Cousland has nothing but the utmost respect and admiration for Doran Antell. He told us that the one time that they had met, he found Lord Antell to be of unquestioning honor and was proud to call him a friend."

In the back of his mind, Nathaniel could hear a voice screaming, _You called Rendon Howe friend too! _Shaking aside these thoughts, Nathaniel tucked the cloth back into his pack and announced, "Good. As we are of the same mind, then, we shall enter the estate in a non-threatening manner. Only, and I repeat _only_, if our reception is one that is less than favorable will we consider anything remotely offensive. Do I make myself clear?" Nathaniel watched each man nod at him in agreement. "Good. Let's go then."

* * *

The approach to the Antell's keep was designed to create one way and only one way into and out of it. Geographically, the area was surrounded by miles upon miles of thickly forested land that had been manipulated until only one road into and and out of it had been possible. Nathaniel knew from his time serving Lord Antell that there were periodically spaced look out positions, and that if they were to enter the estate, their presence would be noted and announced long before they reached the gates.

So it was with some concern that, as Nathaniel led his small group down the road leading to the keep, he noticed the look out positions were un-manned. The positions were not easy to someone who did not know they were there. Nathaniel knew each and every location grew more and more alarmed the closer they came to the estate without noticing one single scout. Subtly motioning Trinion closer, Nathaniel alerted the soldier to his concerns. "Be prepared," he concluded. Trinion grunted his acknowledgement and stepped back to brief the others.

Before arriving at the gate, Nate loosed the catch holding his daggers in their sheaths should he need to arm himself quickly. Signalling Trinion to his left side and Nyles to his right. Padraig and Grayson formed up behind him. Slowly, calmly, carefully, Nathniel took the first step over the threshold ….

They were several yards inside the gate when Nathaniel signaled the group to stop and gave a hand signal to Grayson. The soldier grunted softly in acknowledgement and stepped around the rest of them to approach the trap Nathaniel had spotted. While he worked on the trap, Nathaniel and the others kept an eye on their surroundings, senses on full alert.

As Grayson stepped back into place, he paused for the briefest moment beside Nathaniel and murmured, "These are professionally made, my lord."

Nathaniel nodded and allowed Grayson to fall back into position before leading them forward once more. This procedure continued twice more, until they reached the doors to the keep. Frowning, all sorts of internal alarms sounding off in his head, Nathaniel held a hand up to halt his men. "Something is not right here," he told them quietly. "We should have met Lord Antell at the gates along with a contingent of his troops."

"There is movement inside, my lord," Nyles informed him in a soft voice. "I saw shadows shifting through one of the window.

Nathaniel nodded, pausing to recall the layout of the keep. "Remember," he told them as he reached for the door, "we must be attacked first."

They entered swiftly, Grayson wedging the door open to allow some light in the area near the entry. Nathaniel led the way indoors, the entrance quickly descending into main portion of the great hall. If there would be any challenge, Nathaniel believed it might come from inside the hall itself. There were a series of columns on the left and the right separating out smaller areas off of the hall; perfect for an ambush. As Nathaniel led the men inside, he thought he could hear the sounds of shifting feet, the brush of leather armor against a stone wall, the hushed voices as someone gave instructions.

Nathaniel's hands lowered towards his daggers, his hands giving his men the signal to be prepared when the battle cry came. The instant he heard it, Nathaniel recognized not only the family cry for Antell, but the voice behind it. "Ar gyfer y Gororau a'r Arglwydd Antell!"

_Rhyan Meyrick!_ As the cry echoed throughout the hall, Nathaniel and the others took defensive stances. Nathaniel signaled Grayson and Padraig to remain behind them when it became obvious that there were only three opponents. Per Nathaniel's instructions, he and his men only responded with defensive maneuvers. Out of the corner of his eye, Nathaniel saw Trinion's opponent go down, Trinion moving to keep the man incapacitated. Nyles had his opponent well in hand, though they were still fighting. Nathaniel was doing his best to keep from injuring Rhyan who was attacking him with a ferocity that he had never seen in the years he had known her. Though he remained defensive, Nathaniel attempted to raise his voice above the sounds of battle even as he was defending himself. "Rhyan, stop! We are here in peace!"

"Peace - ha! What would you know of peace when you send men to destroy your lord?" Rhyan cried as she launched another attack upon him.

Nathaniel shifted his position, moving out of harm's way. "I sent no one, Rhyan! Think about it! Where would I find funds to hire men to do such?"

Rhyan, a sword and shield warrior, attacked Nathaniel again, her motions strong and precise. Nathaniel finally slipped into his shadow forms, dancing his way out of harm, circling Rhayn, whispering his arguments to her. "I was not the one to attack - it was my father, his men." As he moved around, he reached inside his armor where he had moved the heraldic device before they entered the building. Retrieving this, he tossed it at her, watching it as it landed upon her arm. He caught her hesitation - surprise, shock or that he finally had her attention, he did not know - and he told her in a voice filled with pain, "This was upon the shields of the men who tried to kill me and my wife on our honeymoon."

"Liar!" she hissed, though her attacks seemed to be losing force somewhat. Nathaniel watched as she allowed the material to slide onto her sword before flinging it away from her.

Nathaniel stepped behind her, leaning in towards her ear to add, "Rendon Howe has turned traitor - he attacked Highever to kill the Couslands, he convinced Devlyn to betray me … he tried to blame it all on Doran Antell …." Nathaniel stepped out of his shadow forms and sheathed his daggers, facing Rhyan unarmed. He watched the fire in her eyes light up as she saw him, stepping forward to finish him off. "My father killed my wife and her family, tried to have me killed, all in an effort to advance himself." As he was speaking, he saw Rhyan advancing on him, preparing to take advantage of his unarmed state. As he finished speaking, he looked directly into her eyes, hoping she would see beyond her hatred to find the truth there.

Rhyan was breathing heavily with exertion as she lifted her sword brought it down, her battle cry tearing from her lips, but Nathaniel met and held her gaze and he did not flinch. From one second to the next, Rhyan went from battle-ready fierce warrior to dropping her shield and sword and collapsing against Nathaniel, heaving huge sobs of anguish and despair. Nathaniel caught her in his arms, sinking to his knees with her, his arms banding around her and holding her close as she released emotions he suspected she had yet to deal with. _The same could be said of yourself!_ he realized suddenly.


	28. What Remains

_Thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked as well as those who set alerts and favs including: Shakespira, Northern Breeze, I am Cousland, Miltonia, Prose Princess, demonology89, Genjutsu-Dragon, Liso66 and Piratexpants._

_Thanks to my fabulous betas without whom I would be so lost: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__. My friends, you are a light in the dark for me. Thank you._

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ….._

_**A/N:**__ Songs for Inspiration: "Dust In the Wind" by Kansas, "Closer To The Edge" by Thirty Seconds to Mars, and "Tough Boy" by TomCat from Fist of the North Star._

_**In memory of my "little Italian Grandma" who is finally at peace. Love you, Grandma! You will not be forgotten!_

* * *

The time that followed proved to be sufficient for a brief tour, the sights and smells of the damage done serving to darken Nathaniel's ever brooding mood even more. _So much death_, he thought, _and all of it unnecessary …._

As he followed Rhyan through the keep, Trinion close behind, Nathaniel took notice of each and every detail. He listened to Rhyan's words, heard the pain in her voice. He knew that she had been related to Doran Antell - a cousin or something through her father's side - just as he knew that her pain now must be as unbearable as his own.

"They came under a banner of peace," she told him numbly, her voice falling into the monotonic tones resembling a child reading from a book on a subject that he or she cared absolutely nothing about. "We allowed them entry; gave them beds to sleep in. We shared our tables and toasted old friends come and gone …."

They crossed from the common areas into the living quarters of the Antell family; the rooms they had once shared with Nathaniel during his stay. He could see debris, residue from battles, embers from a fire that had long since grown cold. Broken beams above them, partially fallen from the closed pathways; tapestries both burnt and torn; upturned tables, cleaved beds … and Maker … the sight and scent of blood …. It was the residual stains of all the blood that made his heart ache and his own blood run cold. _How did Rhyan and her men survive?_

"They struck during second watch," Rhyan continued, "two hours before the shift would change. They did not have to force their way inside, for we had given them entry. They simply coordinated their attack from the inside. One group attacked here, in the living quarters, and two more groups took out the barracks."

Again Nathaniel found himself wondering how Rhyan had escaped unhurt … at least, physically unhurt. That she was emotionally and mentally scarred he had no doubt. "You are certain they were from Amaranthine?" he asked carefully. He and Trinion exchanged a look. They had to be certain.

Rhyan's eyes lifted, caught and held his gaze. "They spoke in the Ferelden tongue, they had the heraldry with the bear … like the one you showed me when you were here."

Nathaniel nodded, recalling the time that they had shown each other their familial heraldic devices. _Father does not have enough men to do something this extensive!_ he argued silently. _How could it possibly have been him unless …._ Nathaniel felt as if ice suddenly coursed through his veins as he realized what tactics his father must have employed to make this happen. _Someone gave him reinforcements! But … who?_

Nathaniel was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he did not see Rhyan travel on ahead of him until Trinion stepped up and cleared his throat. "My lord?" Nathaniel watched as the soldier gestured in the direction that Rhyan had just taken. "Thank you," he murmured in response, turning to follow his friend.

He found her in a room that, upon further inspection, was clearly a nursery. Though the furniture was ruined, large enough pieces remained for Nathaniel to determine that there was a crib, a table and two chairs in addition to numerous toys scattered all around them. Rhyan was kneeling beside a large wooden chest along the far wall, rummaging through what remained. "Rhyan -" he called softly, realizing she was searching for something particular. He moved beside her slowly, and she rose to her feet as he stepped closer. He looked into her hand finding a small figure of a sword and shield warrior, a warrior sporting the Antell device on his shield. _Ioan_, he remembered suddenly. _Rhyan's little brother._

"He was only seven, Nate," she whispered painfully. "He was just about to be sent off to become a page …."

Nathaniel sighed heavily with regret, running a hand through his hair. "I know," he replied quietly. "I remember." And he did. During his short stay here, he and Ioan had taken a liking to each other.

Turning suddenly, her green eyes blazing with fury, Rhyan growled out, "I want _vengeance_, Nate! He must pay for his crimes!"

_He …?_ Nathaniel nodded immediately. He had already come to the same conclusion for similar reasons both known and unsure. "Join with me, Rhyan," he coaxed, extending his hand for her to take or leave as she saw fit. "There are things you don't yet know, but our missions are one and the same. Join your forces to mine and we will hunt my father down and bring him to justice."

Nathaniel watched as she stared at his hand for a long moment. He had chosen his words carefully, making them eerily similar to the words that Doran Antell had spoken when requesting their oaths of fealty years before. In order to convince Rhyan, Nathaniel knew that she would need that fealty bond, that tie of allegiance to give her the sense of purpose she needed to continue after such a loss. Then, after a very long moment, Rhyan looked up at him, nodded once, took his hand with her own and bowed over it slightly giving him the more formal response t hat they had both spoken to Lord Antell years before: "_I promise on my faith that I will in the future be faithful to the lord, never cause him harm and will observe my homage to him completely against all persons in good faith and without deceit."_

It was enough.

* * *

_They were in bed together, laying close, Nathaniel's arm wrapped lightly around Bryallyn's waist, hers resting atop his. He leaned forward, pushing her loose hair tot he side so that he could kiss her neck in the spot he knew drove her wild. He could feel her hand tighten upon his as his lips made contact, hear her breathing catch, see the flush rising to her face as her body began responding to his touch._

_They did not speak, knowing what they had - here and now - was limited. Instead, they relied on senses other than sound to communicate. The touch of Bryallyn's fingers against Nathaniel's bare chest that felt like the flutter of a butterfly's wings. The soft sighs of pleasure and contentment escaping their lips in response. The sheen of moisture that reflected the light of the fire blazing in the nearby hearth._

_Nathaniel felt a groan begin as a deep rumble, low in his chest. It crawled and grabbed and pushed its way out from between his lips as he made love to his wife. And as he moved over her, prepared to show her the depths of his love for her, Nathaniel came to a halt as a barricade appeared between them, her voice crying, sobbing, "We cannot my love!"_

_He was astounded at the words, confused as to why she might say them. "But why? Bry, I am your husband!"_

_She looked at him, the sadness filling her eyes and overflowing with the tears there. "We cannot because you are dead to me!" she whispered brokenly._

_With those few words, Nathaniel reared back from her, settling upon his knees. "Nooooooooo!" he roared, the sound forced from his chest, his head thrown back as the sound echoed around him. But when he looked down at where she was laying beneath him, she was gone .. he was alone. "Bry!" he cried again, his voice much more hoarse than earlier. "Bryallyn! Where are you?"_

* * *

Nathaniel awoke with a start feeling his body jerk in reaction to the dream. He glanced around him in the dimly lit hall where they had made their camp before rising slowly to his feet. All except for Grayson and Nyles, he saw, were still sleeping, and that pair had the last watch he knew. They would be outside the hall now, patrolling the perimeter.

Moving quietly, for that was how he was trained, Nathaniel made his way over to the far side of the room where there was a window so that he could glance outside. Moonlight was shining down, covering the area in a wash of light and giving it an almost haunting appearance.

_It was just a dream_, he reminded himself, though shakily. _Just a dream …._ Nathaniel could not hold back a shudder, however, at the foreshadowing nature of the vision. _It was so damned real!_ Fighting himself internally, Nathaniel muttered, "Bry would not give up like that! She would not stop fighting!"

He stood there alone for some time, his thoughts drifting as he continued to stare outside without focus. So far away was he in mind, memory and spirit, that he did not hear the approach of footsteps behind him. Nathaniel was startled when he felt a strong grip on his shoulder. "My lord?"

Turning, Nathaniel found Trinion at his side. "Yes?" he managed, his voice a bit raspy.

"If it wouldn't seem too out of place," the soldier said quietly, "may I relate a story to you? Concerning the Lady Bryallyn?"

Nathaniel sighed, his eyes moving to stare back out at the early morning sky once more. "If you like," he finally replied. For, despite his own personal losses, he knew that these Highever men would feel it as well, and feel it deeply. Particularly if things were as bad as Devlyn had indicated they would be.

Trinion shifted his position slightly so that he was glancing outside as well. "I have been in service with Teyrn Cousland for fifteen years now," he began. "During that time, I feel I have come to know the Cousland family quite well. I am both proud and honored to be a guard of Highever."

Nathaniel took a moment to eye the man beside him. Since the beginning of this journey, Nahthaniel had understood that Trinion was unofficially the leader of the four. It was clear that the others respected him. Nathaniel himself knew from personal experience during this trip that Trinion no only understood his place, but the capacity of that position. "Go on," Nathaniel finally encouraged.

Trinion nodded slightly before he did so. "When I first arrived at Highever, Lady Bryallyn was seven years old." He paused for just a moment to smile at the memory. "A very precocious seven years, I might add. It was a short time after my arrival that we learned of her … particular talents with the animals."

Nathaniel's smile was pained, but he could do no less. Though not familiar with the entire story, Nathaniel had heard enough to know of what the man spoke. "We were in the town, for Satinalia I believe. The square was crowded as it always was, the people coming out in droves to pay tribute to their Teyrn as much as he and the Teyrna would pay tribute to them, but the people wanted to be there, see it, experience. For many of them it was the only time that they might participate in such festivities."

Trinion shifted his position a bit so that he could lean his back against the wall. "It was while we were in town that day, while the Teyrn and Teyrna were speaking to the crowds that Lady Bryallyn noticed the kidnappers abduct and start running off with Fergus."

Nathaniel blinked. _Kidnappers? _ This he had not heard. "What happened?" he asked.

Trinion smiled and shook his head in disbelief. "I was one of the Teyrn's procession that day, so I was standing near him and the Teyrna when Lady Bryallyn broke from her mother's grasp and took off running. I immediately ran after her, though she was quick and agile and barely eight years. She managed to get plenty far ahead of me however."

Nathaniel could not help the chuckle that escaped his lips. He could imagine all too easily Bryallyn escaping from her parents and scampering off.

"As I said, I followed, through the town square, down a number of side streets, eventually I realized she was heading towards the cliffs. I called out to her, but she refused to stop … and I soon found out why."

Facing Nathaniel again, Trinion stated, "Only Lady Bryallyn had noticed her brother being abducted by strangers. As we neared the cliffs, we turned down a dead end alley, the abductors now trapped. Three of them against a lone guard and a small girl. While two of them began advancing on me, Lady Bryallyn began calling for assistance, but not in the usual manner …."

Nathaniel was suddenly reminded of the incident with the Ferelden red-crested Falcon in the royal gardens when he had first met Bryallyn. "She called in the animals," he murmured.

Trinion nodded once. "So she did. Two dogs, a cat and some sort of bird as I recall. anyway, with their help we apprehended the men and Lord Fergus was saved."

Trinion took a deep breath then, as if recovering from his tale. "My lord, I do not tell you this to waste your time with idle gossip. I wish simply to remind you of this one fact: Lady Bryallyn Teresia Cousland-Howe will do whatever it takes to get the job done, particularly for those whom she loves. If she is yet alive, she will be found. You must have faith in this."

Nathaniel nodded, though in the back of his head he could still hear her saying, _… you are dead to me!_ over and over again.

Straightening, Trinion bowed slightly and queried, "Will you get some more rest, my lord? Your skills will be useless to us if you do not take care of yourself."

Nathaniel waved the guard back to the sleeping area. "I will be along in a moment," he assured him.

After Trinion's departure, Nathaniel leaned his right arm against the window frame, his head leaning against the bone and muscle and sinew there. _Bry_, he called silently, _are you safe? Are you even alive?_ He sighed heavily, and then noticed the lone bead of moisture trailing down his cheek to drop onto the white linen of his shirt, staining it for the duration. Straightening then, he wiped the residual moisture and then noticed in the dim lighting that the ring on his left hand - his ring of the pair that he and Bryallyn shared. Lifting the hand, Nathaniel pressed the metal to his lips and a moment later was surprised to feel a warmth generated in response by the metal. _How strange_, he thought briefly before turning back to his bedroll.

* * *

A goodly distance away, along the road south that would eventually lead them to Ostagar, Bryallyn stirred in her sleep. She dreamt she could feel his warmth wrapped around her, the length of his body protecting her in ways she had never known before him. _"Bry -"_

"_Nathaniel -!" _she called back, hoping she might see him.

A sudden intense warmth on her finger alerted Bryallyn that she had been asleep. As her eyes opened, she brought her hand to her lips, touching the ring on her finger. "Oh, Nathaniel …," she whispered painfully before drifting back into an uneasy sleep ….


	29. Royal Welcome

_I hope everyone had a safe and happy Christmas over the weekend. I will give you a heads up from personal experience - watch out for the stomach bug going around! It's nasty (but thankfully short-lived at our end!) _

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked as well as those setting favs an alerts including: MireliAmbar, Shakespira, jen4306, Liso66, Erynnar, LadyAlina, Miltonia and Piceron. I can't think of a better Christmas present!_

_Thanks as always to my fabulous betas: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar **__and __**VioletTheirin**__ without whom I would have surely lost my sanity many chapters ago! Thank you for taking mercy upon me! =)_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up._

_**A/N:**__ Songs for Inspiration: "This is War" by Thirty Seconds To Mars and "Through the Fire and the Flames" by Dragon Force. I know some of these are getting repetitive, so I will leave it at these two for today. I am working on newer additions, so please - if you have any thoughts let me know!_

_

* * *

_

Duncan's long legged stride had caught up to Bryallyn and Constant as they neared the gates to the camp. Where they expected to find soldiers on guard duty to challenge them, however, they instead heard a youthful and exuberant, "Ho there, Duncan! I was beginning to think you'd miss all the fun!"

Bryallyn paused in her steps which allowed Duncan to move forward to greet the King of Ferelden. It had been some time since she had last seen Cailian, though Bryallyn recognized him readily enough. Though the years had passed, Bryallyn thought that time had been kind as Cailan did not seem to have aged much at all since the coronation ball she had attended …. Bryallyn felt her breathing catch suddenly as she realized that was the day that she and Nathaniel had met. Biting her lip, squeezing her eyes shut, she felt Constant nudge at her right hand as she desperately tried to push her emotional outburst aside. _Later, my love … I will mourn you later …._

"The other Wardens told me that you've found a promising recruit, Duncan," the king was saying. His words seemed to help pull Bryallyn back to the reality surrounding her. "I take it this is she?"

As if sensing Bryallyn's momentary weakness, Duncan quickly injected, "Allow me to introduce you, your Majesty."

But the king waved him off and stepped forward, oblivious to any discomfort Bryallyn might have been feeling. "No need, Duncan," he assured the Commander. Turning his attention to Bryallyn, he continued, "You are Bryce's youngest, are you not? I don't believe we've actually met."

Bryallyn felt Constant nudge her leg gently this time, as if encouraging her to respond. "Yes, your Majesty," she managed, albeit weakly. "I am Bryallyn."

Nodding, Cailan told her, "Your brother has already arrived with Highever's men, but we are still awaiting your father."

Bryallyn's eyes darted to Duncan's as she gasped. "You … you have not heard then? You don't know what has happened?"

His manner seemed almost too casual, Bryallyn thought, as he made a dismissing gesture and replied, "News from the North has been unreliable at best. What has happened?"

Bryallyn opened her mouth to speak, but no sound emerged. She heard Duncan take up the question as his own as he explained, "Teyrn Cousland, his wife and and many at Highever are dead, your Majesty." Duncan paused for a moment as if to organize his thoughts before he continued, "Bryallyn's husband Nathaniel Howe and others sent upon a mission of great importance have been killed as well. Arl Rendon Howe has shown himself a traitor and overtaken Highever Castle. Had we not escaped, he would have killed us and told you any story he wished."

Bryallyn was watching the king's face to gauge his response. Clearly, the words came as a shock to him as his already light features paled considerably more. "I … can scarcely believe it!" he gasped. "How could he think that he would get away with such treachery!" Turning towards Bryallyn, he stepped forwards and reached for her hand. Taking it between his, his gaze catching hers, he told her earnestly, "I promise you, my lady, as soon as we are done here, I will turn my army north and bring Howe to justice! You have my word on that."

Bryallyn nodded, though his words did nothing to ease her inner turmoil or pain. "Thank you, your Majesty," she finally managed to choke out.

He remained holding her hand as he added, "No doubt you wish to see your brother. Unfortunately, he and his men are scouting in the Wilds, and they will not return until the battle is over. Until that time we cannot even send him word, I am afraid."

Bryallyn saw that he continued speaking, though her thoughts once again drifted. _Fergus! Brother, stay safe! Be very wary … trust no one!_

Bryallyn felt the king release her hand and watched as he stepped back, but she still had her thoughts focused elsewhere. _There must be some way we can reach Fergus! There must! He must be told what has happened! Of Oriana … and Oren …._ Bryallyn cringed slightly at this thought. _I must be the one to tell him. I am his sister … the only family he has left. It is my duty …._

"... We've won three battles against these monsters and tomorrow should be no different."

Bryallyn frowned as she re-entered the conversation at the king's pronouncement. "You sound very confident of that, your Majesty," she said softly.

She thought at first she might have been a bit impertinent, but Cailan laughed and shrugged it off by replying, "Overconfident some would say. Right Duncan?"

Bryallyn saw the brief flicker of discomfort that passed over the Commander, but he replied, "Your Majesty, I'm not certain the Blight can be ended quite as quickly as you might wish."

Bryallyn found herself pondering these words as the two continued. _Blight … Blights are ended by Wardens_, she recalled from her lessons as a child, _but why is that? What is it that Wardens can do that regular armies cannot? Does becoming a Warden give you some special ability? A special power? _

"... I must go," Cailan was saying as Bryallyn glanced up at him, "before Loghain sends out a search party. Farewell, Grey Wardens."

Bryallyn blinked as the man turned to leave, his personal guard falling into step behind him. Glancing up at Duncan, she saw that he understood she had questions, and he gestured her to their left. As they walked, he told her, "What the king has said is true. They've won several battles against the darkspawn here."

Bryallyn analyzed his tone of voice, the gestures he was making with his hands as he spoke. "And yet you don't sound very reassured," she observed.

"I know there is an archdemon behind this," he told her insistently. "Unfortunately, I cannot ask the king to act solely on my feeling." He sighed heavily and added, "We should proceed with the ritual that will make you and the other recruits Grey Wardens. Feel free to explore the camp for now as you wish. I have some business to attend before we can move forward." He made a gesture towards Constant and Bryallyn found herself amazed that her hound responded as if he had been imprinted upon the Warden instead of her. "Your hound can stay with me for the time being. The Grey Warden tent is on the other side of the camp. You will find us there if you need to. When you are ready to proceed, find the Warden named Alistair and he will gather the others so that we can move forward."

Bryallyn frowned. "Alistair? How will I know who this Alistair is?" she queried.

"He is a young man," Duncan told her, "near your age I would think. You will know him when you see him. You two share a very similar sense of humor."

The sudden departure of Duncan and Constant was a bit disconcerting for Bryallyn after they had spent so much time together on the road. For the first time in almost a month, she found herself completely alone. It was a rather frightening experience for her.

_Feel free to look around …._

Duncan's words seemed to echo inside of her head and, though her heart was not really in it, she did so knowing that she would need to know her way around the camp. Forcing her private concerns aside for the moment, Bryallyn began wandering, searching … exploring. She made mental notes to herself of the locations of certain sections. Once she had crossed the bridge, she started seeing and hearing the typical signs of a military camp: she heard dogs barking, and along the far side of the camp she spotted the kennels. _Mabari_, she realized. _I should speak with the kennel master about any special preparations or considerations for Constant._ She then noted the muted sounds of metal clanking against metal. _An armorer_.

As she ventured into the camp proper, more people, more sounds: A Chantry priestess leading soldiers in prayer (_I should seek her out later, some sort of memorial for mother, father … Nathaniel …._); a sergeant leading recruits in a training session regarding the darkspawn (_I ought to sit in on this, listen to what he has to say about the darkspawn_); archers practicing against target dummies (_I haven't really practiced for weeks …._).

_When you are ready, find Alistair …._

Bryallyn sighed as she continued her way through camp. _Where do I find this Alistair?_ she wondered. She kept her eye out for him despite not knowing who exactly she was looking for as she continued to look around the camp.

Bryallyn found herself passing the infirmary, noting as she did several bodies lying on cots, hearing soft moans and frightened mutterings. She had half a thought to speak with one of the healers regarding her recent illness, but they all appeared busy tending those already under care and Bryalllyn did not want to interrupt those who clearly needed their attentions more.

Moving out and beyond, Bryallyn descended the ramp back to the main portion of the camp. Ahead of her she found what she assumed to be the mages' section, two shiny templars guarding the entrance from any non-mage types entering, or mages themselves leaving. She overheard a soldier nearby chatting up one of the female soldiers. Bryallyn glanced to her left and found, based on the supplies and other gear laying about, what she assumed to be the quartermaster. _I should check our supplies, see what needs replenishing, what we could sell._ Beyond that was yet another ramp, this one leading up into more ruins. It appeared to lead to the only portion of the camp that she had yet to explore, so Bryallyn chose that direction.

Entering the ruins, Bryallyn found she had two option: to the left, she observed servants were preparing a large table with maps, markers and the like. _This must be where King Cailan holds his military councils_, she guessed. To her right lay another ramp, this one appearing to lead into some sort of chapel-like area. Wondering if the ruins of a chapel would offer as much solace as the real thing, Bryallyn chose this direction under the category of "anything was worth a shot at this point."

Slowly, quietly, Bryallyn ascended the ramp. As she neared the entrance at the top of the stairs, she felt her heart fall a bit as she realized that she was not alone … and by the sounds of it, there was an argument brewing. Sighing, Bryallyn lifted the hood to her cloak, obscuring the view of her face, helping to hide her further into the shadows. Hidden from view thus, she settled back to wait for the scene before her to pass.

Bryallyn observed that an older man, a mage if his robes were any indication, storm past her a short time later as he exited the ruins. Stepping back into view of the other man then she neared him just in time to hear him say, "You know one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together."

Bryallyn gasped as she lifted her hand to lower her hood. She noted the lopsided grin he was sporting, his amber gaze twinkling with humor as he looked at her.

_Alistair has a unique sense of humor …._

"Are you the Grey Warden Alistair?" Bryallyn asked softly as she stepped forward. She saw him nod in response and as he began speaking, Bryallyn caught the sunlight shining off of his short dark blond hair looking for all the world as if he was wearing a halo. It took Bryallyn a moment to realize he had asked her a question. "Sorry … what?" she returned.

"You aren't a mage, are you?" he repeated. "Never mind," he then continued a half moment later. "I can see that you aren't. You're not wearing the robes."

Bryallyn could not stifle a chuckle of amusement at this. "No," she confirmed, "I am not a mage. My name is Bryallyn."

He seemed to pause, to frown for a moment. "Bryallyn …. Now why do I know that name?"

"Duncan and I just arrived from Highever," she explained. "He asked me to find you?"

He snapped his fingers together quickly as he began leading her out of the ruined chapel. "_That_ was it," he replied, the dawning recognition giving his voice a softer quality. "Duncan sent word that he would be bringing a recruit from Highever." They descended down the series of ramps that passed beside the quartermaster's stall. "If you need to purchase or sell anything, Braden here can help you," Alistair explained as they walked by. "He comes across a bit gruff, but he will make you an honest deal."

"I will keep that in mind," Bryallyn replied.

"Are you hungry? Tired? They should be about ready to serve lunch in the mess. If you're wanting to eat, it's best to get there early or your chances of getting anything to eat diminish rapidly." He grinned at her. "We are a hungry lot here."

Bryallyn's smile was a bit melancholic. "It was the same at Highever," she finally added in a soft voice, wondering if it ever would be that way again. _Fergus,_ she thought. _Fergus will take it back, make things right again. I have to believe in that!_

"Lunch then?" Alistair queried, giving her an enthusiastic look that reminded Bryallyn of Constant whenever he thought he'd talked her into a treat.

Bryallyn nodded, though she did not feel hungry at all. "Lunch," she agreed, if only to have a bit of time to learn more about him, the Wardens and the new future they would have together.

* * *

He and his canine companion found her near the mages' camp, her cauldron bubbling away with her potions, the nearby work table filled with poultices. She had her back to him, though he knew that she knew he was there. Giving the hound a signal to remain in his position and silent, he adjusted his position to wait patiently, quietly. She would acknowledge his presence when she had a mind to. Experience had taught him this many years before.

While he waited, he observed, noted, evaluated. It had been a while since he had last seen her. Her hair seemed to be as white as the snow-capped peaks of the Frostbacks, though still pulled back into the single ponytail she preferred which seemed to add a bit of youthfulness to her features. Her hair was not long, barely reaching her shoulders when untied. It had always been thus, from the moment they had met so many years before. _Any longer and it would become a distraction, particularly in battle_, she had once told him. Her eyes were a light blue that could match the sky on a clear day, yet they contained, and upon occasion hid, a great deal of wisdom.

Duncan was unsure how long he had been standing there when she turned, a smile spreading across her features. "Duncan! How good to see you safely returned," she greeted him as she approached to take his hands in hers, "and in time for the battle no less!"

Duncan chuckled as he saw her wink. "Ah, Wynne," he told her a bit cheekily, "I couldn't leave you to King Cailan's tender mercies all alone, now, could I?"

Wynne's chuckle was filled with warmth. "I would never forgive you!" she returned teasingly. "Now then, my friend, I am certain you did not seek me out for idle banter. Was your journey to Highever successful? Did you find your young recruit?"

When the Warden-Commander did not answer immediately, the mage knew that something was very, very wrong. "Duncan?" She glanced up at his dark, hawk-like eyes, his features looking so much older than when she'd seen him some two months previous. She could see that whatever had occurred had reached him at a more personal level as well. Reaching out to touch his arm (and by association to judge for herself that he was not ill), she asked softly, "Can you tell me?"

Duncan sighed heavily, allowed her to lead him over to a camp bench near the table, and sat. He felt Constant brush up against his leg, and he signaled the hound to settle beside him. Turning his attention back to the mage, he began slowly, explaining in detail the events that had occurred shortly after his arrival at Highever. As he told her his story, he watched her listen calmly (for she had known Bryce and Eleanor as well) while making tea for them both. When she set a cup in front of him, he raised an eyebrow. Wynne chuckled as she took a bench nearby. "Chamomile," she said softly. "Something calming, nothing more."

A short time later, he concluded, "We just arrived in camp this morning. I haven't even met up with Bernardo* or Alistair yet. Wynne … Bry has been ill this past week or so. Physically ill. I am afraid, whether she knows it or not, that she may be doing it to herself. She hasn't slept well since we left Highever; she doesn't eat much and when she does eat, she usually loses it a short time later." Sighing, he took a drink of the tea. "I know she is worrying herself over her brother, not knowing if he is alive or not. Would you examine her for me, Wynne? Make sure there is not something more serious going on other than the stress of the past few weeks? She has agreed to become a Warden, but I can't in good conscience put her through the Joining if she's seriously ill either."

Wynne nodded immediately. "Of course I will, Duncan," she assured him. "I understand your concerns. Perhaps all she just needs someone she can open up to, someone to listen who was not there when all of this happened."

Duncan rose then, finishing off his drink. "Thank you, my friend. I will send her to you this afternoon." Wynne nodded. "I will find you afterwards then." Reaching out, she squeezed his arm and asked, "There is no hope that Bryce or Ellie … or Bryallyn's young man …?"

Duncan shook his head slowly, clearly affected by the events. "Bryce was dying was we left, Wynne. Even if there had been a healing mage with us at the time, I highly doubt he would have survived. And Eleanor … Well, she vowed to guard him, to give us time to escape."

"And Bryallyn's husband?" Wynne queried.

Duncan sighed and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "There I do not know. He left earlier that afternoon aboard a ship bound for the Free Marches. Bry and Eleanor apparently overheard some of Rendon Howe's soldiers saying that Nathaniel would be disposed of as well, but beyond that … I simply have no answers, and Bryllyn has not spoken of it."

Wynne nodded. "And her brother is out on patrol in the Wilds as I understand it?"

Duncan nodded. "According to the king, yes."

Straightening, Wynne turned towards her cauldron to give it a quick stir. "Send her to me this afternoon, Duncan, and I will see what I can do. I am sure it is simply the stress from losing as much as she has so suddenly, so unexpectedly. But, if there is something more to it, we shall certainly find out."

With a final nod of thanks, Duncan signaled Constant to join him and they departed Wynne's work area, heading towards the Grey Warden Camp to hunt up Bernardo, Duncan's second in command.


	30. The Master of His Domain

_*backs dump truck into the chapter, unloads giant drum of brain bleach in center and warns: You will need it. Sorry... * (Yes, this is a Rendon Howe chapter)_

_Thanks to those who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those setting alerts and favs including: Shakespira, Liso66 and ProsePrincess._

_Wondermus thank yous to my truly fabulous betas: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin.**__ Also, my many, many, MANY thank yous to __**Liso66**__ for hopping on board and batting ideas, having constant and amusing discussions, and joining my beta team! I am so grateful to you my friend!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up ….._

_**A/N:**__ Songs for Inspiration: "Devil is a Loser" and "Would You Love a Monster Man" both by Lordi and "Maneater" by Hall and Oates. (sorry, just don't have enough evil tunes!)_

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Though his heavy-lidded glare caused more than one servant to scatter out of his way as he stalked the halls of Vigil's Keep, Rendon Howe scarcely noticed. They were beyond his contempt - a necessary evil, nothing more. They were there at his whim, to serve and service _his_ needs, not he theirs.

So it was with (or without depending on your point of view) this in mind that the master of his domain made his way through the keep, ascended the stairs and found himself upon the battlements overlooking the courtyard below him. In the distance, he could see storm clouds building over the Waking Sea that were beginning to roll inland. Soon, he realized, they would be due for another of Amaranthine's famous storms. _How fitting,_ he thought, _for my current mood._

In his hand he held the first reports from activities at Highever and other locations. So far, things appeared to be going according to plan. The plan, when he had first conceived it, had been complicated enough. But then his eldest, the whelp of a boy who had given him nothing but irritation since the day he'd been born, had gone and complicated things even further by deciding to marry the Cousland bitch. Rendon's initial irritation had almost gotten the better of him then. But as he'd thought on it, he'd decided that it had given him the opportunity to plan things out in greater detail, to enlist more assistance, extend his reach that much farther ….

Thinking … planning … scheming …. Bringing, no … FORCING allies into compliance. All that was needed were veiled hints and threats, promises of retribution, assurances of favors ….

Rendon moved along the wall allowing the stone to guide his steps while he continued to read. _Bryce Cousland is dead … Highever castle has been taken …._ "Hmpf," the arl chortled, his delight at the turn of events barely contained. "It's about damned time. That man has been a thorn in my side for decades …."

_Prisoners are being sorted per your instructions. They should be on the way within the week._ Rendon glanced at the date of the letter, checked the mental calendar in his head. "Tomorrow or the next day perhaps," he murmured. _Among them will be their priestess, one of their knights who was Captain of the Guards, and the Teyrna herself, though she has been badly wounded in the fight …._

Rendon paused his steps and reread the last bit, his mind rolling over the possibilities. For years he had been itching to get his hands on Eleanor. She had been the one woman he'd wanted who had flat out refused him …. "And all because of that interfering Orlesian bitch!*" he grumbled angrily, his eyes narrowing as the memories from thirty years past came flooding back.

Then almost as quickly, it faded. "Not to worry," he reminded himself. "She'll be mine now. No one can take that from me," he glanced at the missive once more and sighed. "As long as she survives the trip that is …."

He started walking again, this time taking note of a missive from one of his compatriots. "Ah, Bann Loren," he mused in some amusement, his thoughts drifting briefly back to their last conversation - the one in which Rendon had forced the man's hands. Breaking the seal, he murmured, "Let us see what you have to report."

_My Lord Howe -_

_I have been informed that the little problem in the Free Marches that had been plaguing you has now been dealt with most satisfactorily. It shall trouble you no further, my lord. I trust this meets with the requirements set forth in our agreement. When the time comes, trust that you shall have my full support in the Landsmeet._

_Bann Loren_

Rendon snorted softly in derision. "Miserable little coward," he muttered. He sighed then, one more born of weariness than anything else. "I suppose I shall have to wait to deal with you. Support is support, after all, and I will need all the support I can garner."

Shifting messages again, Rendon came upon another, this one less reluctant than the first but no less smarmy and ingratiating in its contents.

_My Lord Howe -_

_I am posting this message on the eve of battle to update you as hastily as possible. Though opportunities here at Ostagar have been few and far between since our arrival, my men were finally able to move out to intercept our target. However, it appears we have an unwitting ally in our midst as said target was dealt with by a band of darkspawn. My men lingered long enough to see the scouting party decimated before reporting back to me mere moments ago. As we go off to battle, I send this by pigeon post and trust it shall reach you. As for the other arrangement, I can simply say that as of three days ago when I last spoke to him, Teyrn Loghain has not yet changed his mind to the order of battle as we discussed. Maker willing, we shall meet up with you in Denerim as planned some two weeks hence._

_Coerlic_

Rendon paused his motions yet again. _Coerlic … ambitious fool,_ he thought, _though he may have his uses._

The one message he was awaiting, the one he was most impatient to receive, Rendon knew would be the one to take the longest to reach him. Devlyn Cashen. Rendon sighed at this. They boy had a way about him. "But so far in debt … I could use a man like you in my employ, my boy," he murmured into the air towards the Free Marches, "You're certainly taken by my Delilah … such a good girl, she'd do as her father told her … Hmpf … we shall have to wait and see. Should your dedication to duty prove to be -"

"Father?"

Rendon froze at the sound of his daughter's voice from behind him. _Stupid useless chit!_ he raged silently. _What are you doing up here … spying on me?_ "Yes, Delilah?" he queried, folding the messages and tucking them beneath his vest. He glanced up at the darkening skies as the first drops of cold rain began to fall. The storm was beginning to move inland. "You should not be out here, my dear," he chided as he moved to her side and placed an arm around her shoulder before leading her indoors. "You wouldn't want to take ill now, would you?"

Delilah blushed slightly. "No, Father. I only came because a messenger has arrived for you. One of Teyrn Loghain's men."

Rendon was pleased that he could pass as surprised in front of his daughter. "Really? I wonder what the man could possibly want from me?"

Delilah walked beside her sire as they descended to the main floor of the keep. She stopped and kissed his cheek briefly just before they reached the entryway. "I shall see you at supper then," she said softly before turning away.

Rendon saw the messenger a moment later, one whom he recognized. "Yes?"

"They Teyrn said to tell you 'It is time,' my lord."

Rendon chuckled feeling the warmth of power tightening in his gut. _Yes, that extra year was put to good use indeed. Step one, complete … now on to step two …._ "Tell your lord I understand and shall obey his command."

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*Reference to _"We Do What Must Be Done"_


	31. Examination

_Thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked over the holidays, as well as those adding favs and alerts including: Erynnar, Liso66, Shakespira, ProsePrincess, Piceron and GLCW2._

_Thank you to my fabulous betas: __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, Liso66, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__ without whose thoughts, opinions and discussion I would be totally lost and up a creek._

_Bioware owns all but what I made up … _

_**A/N:**__ Music For Inspriation: "It's a Beautiful Life" by Ace of Base, "Only Time Will Tell" by Asia and "Reel Around the Sun" from the Riverdance: Music from the Show._

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After a lunch consisting mostly of Bryallyn watching Alistair wolf down copious amounts of food that he'd selected while she sat essentially just watching him inhale it, her stomach rebelling at the merest hint of digesting whatever the daily mystery meat was slathered in a congealed looking gravy; and then fighting back the urge to laugh in astonishment as the man asked if she was going to eat her own (at which point Bryallyn gave in to the inevitable and simply chewed on her slice of bread, pushing the plate in front of her towards her new friend), the duo headed back towards the Warden camp, Alistair pointing out various spots along the way. When they arrived, it was to find Duncan exiting his tent, Constant at his side. "Ah," he greeted the two, "I see you have found Alistair."

Bryallyn smiled slightly as Alistair laughed. "That she did, Duncan. I hope you don't mind that I took her to lunch first - wouldn't want her to faint away from hunger now, would we?"

Bryallyn choked back her laughter as her eyes landed upon an astonished Duncan. The older man too, she could tell, was struggling to hide his own amusement. If she were to guess, Bryallyn felt that his reaction indicated that he knew the full extent of Alistair's culinary capabilities. Bryallyn watched the Commander frown then, his visage darkening somewhat as he asked, "You're quite finished riling up mages then, are you?"

Alistair grinned. "What can I say? The revered mother ambushed me. the way she wields guilt they should stick her in the army."

Duncan's look darkened a bit more when the younger man did not seem to realize the import of his words right away. "She forced you to sass the mage, did she? We cannot afford to antagonize anyone, Alistair. We don't need to give anyone more ammunition against us."

The sudden change that overtook Alistair then was like the difference between night and day, Bryallyn thought. One moment the playful, amusing man she had met in the old chapel ruins, and the next a mortified and abashed young man with a slight reddening of his cheeks as he managed, "You're right, Duncan. I apologize."

There was a palpable tension there, one that even Bryallyn felt and was thinking she could assist with its removal, but before she could say a word it seemed to evaporate as Duncan continued. "We have much that needs to be accomplished yet today, so I will ask you Alistair to escort Bryallyn over to visit with Senior Enchanter Wynne before rounding up our last two recruits." Turning towards Bryallyn, he explained, "Enchanter Wynne is a healing mage, one of those sent from the Circle Tower to assist us here. I spoke with her earlier regarding your difficulties in our travels and she would like to see you this afternoon. If you do not mind."

Bryallyn glanced into his dark eyes and saw a concern there that she had not noted until just now. Nodding, she replied, "Of course, Duncan. I shall go at once. When I am finished?"

"Return here. By then we should have the others gathered and we can then move forward with our plans." Turning back to Alistair he added, "Once you have located Ser Jory and Daveth, bring them back here. I have some things I would like to go over with you as well before we move ahead with the next steps."

Alistair nodded and replied, "Of course, Duncan," before turning to face Bryallyn. Gesturing forward, he asked, "Shall we?"

Bryallyn smiled as she allowed him to lead her across the camp, pointing out other areas of interest that she had not yet inspected, confirming some that she had observed earlier while searching for him. When they reached the mages section of the camp, Bryallyn found herself a bit surprised when Alistair led her beyond the entrance and its two templar guards at a rather fast clip. Glancing up at him, she asked softly, "Is something wrong?"

Her words seemed to break through his concentration and he slowed down slightly, waiting for her to join him. "What? Oh, that … no, nothing other than I … well, when Duncan found me six months ago and recruited me, I was about to take my vows as a templar," he explained. Bryallyn saw him staring off into the distance as they walked, his mind clearly elsewhere. "Duncan was the first person to see that I wasn't happy there, that I didn't want to be a templar," he explained in a quiet voice. "He was also the first person who could do something about it."

Bryallyn found herself trying to follow this bit of narrative, but his words ended up making a strange sort of sense to her. "He recruited you then?"

Alistair chuckled. "Well, he had to use the Right of Conscription," he clarified. "The Revered Mother was not going to let me leave, though why she wanted me to remain confused me as I had made it quite clear by my … actions and behavior that I did not want to be a templar. Whatever the case, he conscripted me, and the rest, as they say, is history."

Bryallyn nodded in understanding. "I see," she told him, her thoughts drifting back to Duncan proposing the idea to her while on the road to Ostagar. She supposed she should count herself lucky that he had given her the option and not simply forced her hand.

"Ah, here we are," Alistair announced, guiding Bryallyn into a small enclosure. The first thing Bryallyn noticed was the bubbling cauldron on the far side of the space. From there, her eyes were caught by the nearby table lined with potions and poultices, and then the older woman who seemed to be working at a smaller table between the two, her back to them. "Ah," a gentle voice called, tossed casually over her shoulder as she reached for the edge of an apron she wore on which to wipe her hands. Turning towards them, the mage smiled and nodded. "Hello, Alistair," she greeted him.

Stepping across the space then, the woman reached out her hands and Bryallyn found herself offering hers back in return. "Ah my dear," the mage murmured, "you have grown into a very lovely young woman. Your parents must have been proud of you." Turning quickly towards Alistair, the mage assured him, "She is safe here with me, Alistair. Please tell Duncan I will guide her back to camp if necessary when we are through."

Bryallyn noticed her Warden companion blush slightly, but he nodded before turning to leave the two women. He obviously recognized the dismissal for what it was. Turning back towards Wynne, Bryallyn asked, "You knew my parents then?"

Bryallyn followed Wynne across to yet another table, the same one that Wynne and Duncan had sat at earlier. Nodding, the mage asked, "Would you like a cup of tea, dear? I will admit, one of my little vices upon leaving the Tower is the ability to find good quality tea from the quartermaster here." Bryallyn couldn't help a look of complete and utter amazement at the woman's words, a look that Wynne apparently noticed as she added, "By relative comparison, you understand. The tea here is not nearly as horrid as the stuff they claim with the same title back at the Circle."

For the first time in a long while, Bryallyn found herself chuckling. It never failed to amaze her, no matter the people she met over the years, it was inevitable that someone would complain about their tea or coffee back home, and that the solution to all that ailed them was in what could be found in camp. "I would like that, yes please," she agreed easily. She sat back to watch the older woman as Wynne began answering her previous question.

"I met your parents a long time ago, once and in Denerim during a Landsmeet. I believe at the time you were just a youngster, more interested in chasing rabbits or playing with your brother as I recall." Wynne set a mug of the warm drink before Bryallyn then. Taking a seat across from Bryallyn, the mage added, "I do remember speaking with your parents about you then." Reaching out and placing a hand on top of Bryallyn's forearm, Wynne squeezed gently and added kindly, "I am so sorry for your loss my dear. Your parents were wonderful people who did not deserve such a fate."

Bryallyn found that she could only nod in response as she felt her chest tighten. _I must get used to this_, she realized. "I - thank you, Wynne," she finally managed.

"I hope you do not mind me saying, Duncan came to me this morning in some concern regarding your current condition." Wynne gave the younger woman a knowing look. "He said that you had been finding yourself ill during your travels?"

Bryallyn nodded, closing her eyes tight to stave off tears. "Wynne," she finally gasped, "I-I lost more than … just my parents. My brother's wife and son … and, I believe, my own husband … All of us were targets. I think I may be the only one yet alive …."

The look of shock that crossed Wynne's face told Bryallyn that the woman had not heard all of the details. Given the king's reaction upon their arrival, this did not surprise Bryallyn in the least. Covering her face with her hands, she muttered, "Fergus' wife and son were murdered in cold blood. I saw them, Wynne. Now I have to tell him …. Just as I have to tell him that it was my father-in-law who was responsible for their deaths!"

The moment the first sob escaped her lips, Bryallyn felt a strong arm slide around her shoulders, turning her, offering her a shoulder to cry upon. Bryallyn knew it was Wynne, but it was so similar to actions her mother had taken in the past that it triggered an even deeper emotional response.

"There, there, child," Wynne murmured gently, her arms surrounding Bryallyn as she gently rocked the younger woman back and forth in soothing motions.

"And … Nathaniel," Bryallyn gasped, the agony she had been trying to keep back, buried deep and far away so as not to give it purchase in reality finally breaking free, "... Rendon Howe … killed his own son too!" Bryallyn glanced up at Wynne. "I've lost my entire family because of one odious man!"

Wynne continued to murmur soothingly, her rocking motions seeming to help ease the grief from the younger woman. But this served a second purpose as well. As she held Bryallyn, she allowed her healing magic to reach out, to interpret, to diagnose ….

Bryallyn felt a warmth of magical energy suffuse her, spreading beneath her skin, sending a wave of calm and comfort through her. Finally, after a long, harsh sigh, Bryallyn's sobs ceased, and she sat beside the mage trying to calm her breathing pattern. "I … I'm sorry …," she whispered.

Wynne chuckled sadly. "Nonsense, child," she said reassuringly. "There is nothing to apologize for. You have lost a great deal, this is true. Most people in your position would simply give up, quit, let the world move on beyond them while they drowned their sorrows in the past. But, according to Duncan, you have … chosen to become a Warden?"

Bryallyn swallowed hard before taking a sip of her tea, allowing the soothing properties of the drink to work on her. Nodding, she explained, "I have … nothing left. Nothing but Fergus that I know of, at this point. I was raised to know that no matter what, I was always to do my duty." Taking a deep breath, Bryallyn looked over at the mage. "Couslands always do their duty," she added. She saw Wynne nod as she rose to her feet and crossed to her work table. A moment of insecurity washed through Bryallyn then for some reason she could not define. "Do you think I am wrong?" she asked hesitantly.

Wynne was silent until she returned a few moments later, several small vials in her hands along with a special pack to carry them. "Not at all, dear," she replied, though her gaze would not meet Bryallyn's directly while she placed the vials in the wrappings that would keep them from breaking. "I think you are a grieving young woman who is searching for purpose, however, and that a period of grieving might be in order before you make such a life changing decision; but I am just a mage," she concluded. With a gentle smile she finally looked back at Bryallyn. "What do I know?"

Bryallyn thought to say something, to challenge that assessment, but she bit her lip instead, deciding to keep her own counsel. Nodding at the wrapped package, she asked, "What - what is that?"

Wynne's smile broadened. "This, my dear, is your salvation shall we say?" Bryallyn frowned and heard the mage chuckle. "Well, all right then. If not your salvation, your … relief perhaps? Your illness is caused by stress, child," she explained. "I expect that this will continue for some time yet until you learn to deal with your losses. What I can do is this: I have a healing spell, one that will help your body deal with the effects of your stress - the sleeplessness, the physical illness, as well as any others that might crop up after a while. These," she lifted the package, "are potions that will extend that spell for as long as necessary. Each one will lengthen the spell for a month."

Bryallyn blinked at the woman's words penetrated her brain. "Stress?" she breathed. "This is all caused by …," her hand reached out then to rest on Wynne's. "Oh thank the Maker! I was beginning to think it was something much more serious!"

Wynne smiled again and patted Bryallyn's hand. "Nonsense, dear. You will be fine in a relatively short amount of time if you would simply allow yourself to grieve. I know you have lost a lot," she looked directly at Bryallyn then, "but you have a future. You survived for a reason. Do not ever forget that."

Bryallyn was a bit surprised at the intensity of the woman's gaze, but she nodded and took the offered pack of vials. "I won't promise that it will be easy," she replied softly, "but I will promise that I will try."

With a final pat, Wynne rose to her feet and rounded the table to Bryallyn's side. "That is all I would ask at this point. You will find your focus again, Bryallyn, never fear. Life is a process sometimes. To get from one point to the next, you follow the path, but sometimes there are side trips in the process. Just do not lose focus on the main goal and you will be fine."

Bryallyn smiled sadly as they left the enclosure together and turned back towards Duncan's camp. "My mother used to say that," she murmured. "Or at least, something very like it."

"Your mother was a wise woman, child. I think you may be very much like her."

As they walked, Bryallyn felt her mind begin to ease while in the presence of the mage. For the first time since her flight from Highever, she was beginning to find some peace.


	32. Tempting Fate

_My profoundest apologies to my readers for the delay in this chapter. Between the rigorous demands of RL and the frustrations of a muse who decided to go on holiday without advance notice, I have been struggling with this chapter for weeks. And, unfortunately, as this chapter sets up the rest of the story, I could not simply work around it. Though I may not be back to my twice a week posting rate for a while, I hope to pick up the pace a bit from here out._

_Thank you to those who have read, reviewed and lurked as well as those who have set alerts and reviews including: Erynnar, Liso66, Shakespira, ProsePrincess, ShdwCatJen, Miltonia, Sesegirl, Twilight Canvas, Evalyne, fifespice, Piceron, jen4306 and heavenXscent (I hope I did not forget anyone!)._

_My undying thanks and gratitude to my absurdly patient betas who have been bugging me about this chapter all along, gently prodding, suggesting and finally inspiring a worn out muse into action! __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, Liso66, MireliAmbar, **__and __**VioletTheirin**__ - thank you, thank you, thank you!_

_As always, Bioware owns all but what I made up..._

_**A/N: **__Musical Inspiration: For this chapter it was difficult because the process extended for sooooooo long, but I will leave you with "The Black Cat" by Lothlorien as recommended by a dear friend over on Warden's Vigil._

_

* * *

_

The two women walked at a casual pace, taking their time to cross the large camp, both speaking on inconsequential things and purposefully ignoring the more poignant ones. To all who watched, it looked as if a mother and daughter, or granddaughter even, walked by conversing. As they reached the Warden encampment, Wynne approached Duncan as well, seeing him turn and hearing him greet Bryallyn, "Ah, there you are. Your timing could not have been better."

Wynne watched carefully as the Warden Commander turned towards them while asking, "All is well then?" She nodded slightly, and returned carefully, "All is well, Duncan. However, the poultices and potions that you requested will require a bit of additional time and some assistance to bring them to you. If you would be so kind as to send someone over …?"

Wynne held his look for a long moment until she saw him nod. He then assured her, "As soon as I have completed the briefing here, I will come, Wynne. Thank you."

Nodding, and with one final smile at Bryallyn, Wynne turned to leave them then. As she walked back towards her work area, she decided to take the long way around, needing the time to consider, analyze, decide. For, while what she had told Bryallyn was the truth, it was not the entire truth. The rest, well that would have to be discussed with Duncan before she even thought of approaching the young Warden recruit. Wandering through the infirmary, Wynne paused briefly to see if her healing powers were required of the staff there, and assured that there was no immediate need, Wynne continued on. She passed the quartermaster without stopping, wandering down the pathway by a Chantry priestess blessing soldiers as they wished. Finally, she arrived back at her little niche.

The first thing she did was put a kettle to boil. This occurred quite quickly, and within a short time, she had poured herself a relaxing mixture containing both chamomile and lavender. She then took a seat at her table and waited.

Duncan arrived some short time later, Constant at his side as before. As he sat, Wynne rose silently, automatically moving to make him the drink as well. When she handed the cup to him and retook her seat, she heard him ask, "There's something more to this, isn't there, Wynne?"

Wynne rested her elbows on the table, holding her cup between long, slender fingers. She stared at her hands a moment. _So much power, so much strength … and there is nothing I can do about this …._ "Yes, Duncan," she murmured. "There is much more to this." Lifting her gaze to the Commander, she held his look and added, "I cannot in good conscience allow Bryallyn Cousland-Howe to go through with the Joining."

Duncan lowered his eyes to look at his hands. "I was afraid you would say that," he admitted quietly. "May I know the reason? She has given her word, and you know how desperate we are for Wardens, Wynne."

The mage held her tongue for a moment, sorting through her thoughts as she searched for a way to explain. Reaching out at last, she settled her hand against one of his and squeezed gently. "Duncan, the poor thing has been through so much already, and she does not even know …"

Duncan looked back up at her then, a question in his dark eyes and Wynne nodded slowly. "She's pregnant, Duncan. You can't take that away from her - the child is not only her husband's, but the Cousland heir after her!" She gave Duncan a hard look. "Can you honestly make her go through the Joining when you and I both know what would happen to the child if she does?"

Wynne rose then, started pacing around. "Duncan, I must vehemently protest this course of action!"

She watched the man sit there, absorbing the information. She understood his position. Maker knew that the number of Wardens in Ferelden was minimal, and though she did not understand why exactly, she did know that Wardens were a necessity to defeat this .. if it was a true Blight. As a senior mage, Wynne had been on hand to assist Duncan with the preparations for the Joining on many an occasion. She was sworn to secrecy by an oath, one that she agreed with and respected. And, unfortunately, given Bryallyn's agreement to become a Warden and the request by Duncan for the mage to examine the girl, Wynne also felt bound by the oath to remain silent. It would be Duncan's decision as to where to go next. She just prayed he would make the right choice...

* * *

As he walked back to the Warden camp, Duncan could not help but feel conflicted. _Do I tell her? Don't I? We need Wardens in Ferelden so desperately …. If I tell her, will she bolt? Will I be forced to … protect the order? Or will she make the right call?_ He sighed as he took a seat on a log near Constant who had been lying near his tent. Reaching for the iron kettle, he set it into the flame and started it to boil. Then ducking into his tent for a moment, he returned with his paperwork. _Might as well get caught up while they are out in the Wilds._

But as he sat there again, drinking tea, doing the paperwork necessary, to keep any organization running smoothly, he found his thoughts drifting again. _Bryce Cousland was a friend … a good friend. Can I simply let his daughter sacrifice the only thing she has left because of the needs of our country? _ He gazed deeply into the fire, his eyes transfixed by the roaring flame.

A soft huffing next to him had Duncan looking down at the mabari a moment or two later. "And your opinion, my friend? What do you think of this situation?" He didn't necessarily expect an answer, or if there was one the Warden thought it might be less than complete as the dog had bonded with Bryallyn, so it was with some degree of surprise that he found himself nearly eye to eye with the hound as Constant jumped to his feet and barked once, sharply. Giving Duncan a look that was part plea and part worry, Duncan surprisingly found himself understanding the message. Chuckling, he reached a hand out to pat the animal's head. "I think I understand," he replied. "I will speak with her when she returns. Will that be satisfactory?" Duncan found himself smiling at the hound's single bark response in the affirmative.

Darkness was settling for the evening when Duncan finally saw the foursome approaching. He called them over to the fire, debriefed them and then allowed them to go get a meal before moving on to the next phase. Before the recruits and Alistair had left however, he called both Bryallyn and Alistair over. Turning towards his fellow Warden, Duncan said, "Alistair, when they are finished eating, take them to the old temple. We'll proceed with the Joining tonight." Alistair nodded and followed off after Ser Jory and Daveth.

Then turning towards Bryallyn, he gestured her over in the direction of the ruins behind the royal tents. Earlier in the day they had been the site for training. Now they were silent and abandoned. As the duo walked, Duncan led Bryallyn down towards the ruins of an old spire, the walls now crumbled, and the view to the mountains and valleys below open to all. "I need to speak with you," he began quietly as they stood looking out at the vista before them, "regarding something … personal."

Turning, he saw a flicker of emotions pass over her face, and it took him a moment to finally realize what his words might have sounded like. Sighing, he reached out and grasped her shoulder with his hand. "No," he reassured her quickly, "there is no news of you brother. I apologize if that is what it sounded like." Beneath his hand, he felt the tension in her small frame recede as she relaxed. "But this is no less important."

She looked at him long and hard for a moment. "Go ahead," she murmured softly. "I am ready."

Removing his hand, she turned back to take in the scenery. _To hide from her reaction, you mean_, he scolded himself. "Some of what I am about to tell you can never be repeated," he said quietly. "I need your word on that. By rights, I should not even be telling you this before the Joining, but there are some circumstances that have come into play …."

He glanced over at her for a moment, saw her nod once, firmly, and for the briefest of moments he was reminded of his good friend, Bryce Cousland. "While you were out in the Wilds today, I spoke with Wynne regarding your condition." Again he saw her nod. "Apparently, she has more concerns regarding it than can be explained away by stress. This may cause a problem concerning your intention to become a Warden."

He saw the girl frown, her eyes narrowing as she took in the information. "Is there something else wrong?" she asked.

He nodded. "Wynne has informed me that you are pregnant," he announced.

* * *

Bryallyn stood there, shock freezing her body for a moment. _Pregnant? But …. Oh!_ Her gasp was quiet, but still audible, and she saw him look over at her. Unconsciously, her right hand settled to rest over her flat belly as her thoughts drifted and her eyes filled with tears. _Oh, Nathaniel! I still have a part of you!_

And then the cold truth of his words washed over her. Staring intently up at Duncan, she asked, "How does this cause a problem, exactly?"

"The Joining is a ritual," he explained. "One in which you will need to ingest a concoction," she noted he looked uncomfortable at use of this word and wondered just what the concoction was, "which will then either assist you in becoming a Warden, or …."

Bryallyn watched his eyes closely as his voice trailed off. "Or?" she asked.

She thought she could hear him sigh, and he certainly seemed reluctant in what he was trying to not tell her. "Or you will die."

Bryallyn swallowed, though she found was not surprised by his words. Why, she could not say, but it seemed … inevitable? "I see." She remained silent for a moment, evaluating this news, and he respected it by doing the same. After a time, however, she finally spoke up and asked, "I should assume, then, that if this is the case for myself then, by extension, it will be for the child as well?"

She didn't need to see him nod in response; she just knew. Sighing she leaned against a partially fallen wall separating the safer inner portion of the ruins from the gaping chasm below on the other side. "So, are you asking me if I still want to become a Warden then?"

"You are in a unique position," he told her sincerely, "of being the first person - woman - attempting to join the Grey Wardens that I've heard of in this situation. Seeing as you offered yourself for service voluntarily, I cannot help but offer you a chance to change your decision. Though we are desperate at this time for Wardens, I will not force the issue in this situation."

Bryallyn blinked, her eyes lifting to his. "You … you would do that?" she asked quietly.

Duncan nodded. "Bryallyn, your father was a good friend of mine. His loss deeply saddens me. I realize also that you may be the only Cousland left. With the child you now carry, that changes things. Though Wardens do what is necessary to get the job done, I cannot find it in myself to put you and your child at risk unnecessarily."

"If you know my father, Duncan, as you claim, then you know that Couslands are raised to do their duty at all times." She saw him nod. When she opened her mouth to speak again, he raised his hand and interrupted her. "Go speak to Wynne again," he advised gently. "She is in a position to know exactly what it is to become a Grey Warden, and she might have something to tell you which could assist you in your decision making process."

Bryallyn nodded a bit absently, her head spinning with the news. "When do you need my decision?" she asked.

"Within the hour, I'm afraid."

Bryallyn nodded and turned. "Thank you, Duncan. Thank you for allowing me to make this choice. I will go speak to Wynne now." So saying, she turned and left him there, wandering her way through the camp and towards the mages section. She found Wynne where she had been before, the small work area nice and tidy as it had ever been. "Wynne?" she called softly as she stepped inside the space.

The mage turned to face her, a sympathetic smile upon her face. Crossing to greet Bryallyn, the younger woman soon found herself sobbing and holding onto the mage. "Wynne," she breathed, "is it true? Am I pregnant?"

Wynne nodded as she led Bryallyn over to the table to sit. "Yes, child, it is. I hope you forgive me for not telling you sooner, but I felt it necessary to discuss with Duncan first."

Bryallyn nodded. "I - I understand," she replied quietly as she sat. She turned then to the older woman and asked, "Is there _any_thing that can be done to save it? I … I have to honor the promise I made to Duncan, Wynne," she whispered. "I can't go back on it! Couslands always do their duty, and the duty now is to help Ferelden. You know that old saying? 'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.' My father raised us on that."

She saw Wynne sit beside her, placing an arm around her shoulder again and hugging her close. "I cannot tell you, child, what exactly will happen with the Joining, I think you know this." Bryallyn nodded against Wynne's shoulder. "But what I can tell you is this: I know of a spell, an old spell - a spell or protection charm used by the Tevinter magi. During my travels, I had an opportunity to study outside of the circle and if a mage is crafty," she winked, "we pick up a few tricks along the way." She sighed, "Ah child, while I can not promise this will work, if you are determined to do your duty; this may give the babe a fighting chance if you...," She trailed her last thoughts.

"Are there risks to the baby?" Bryallyn asked.

"No, dear. It will do no harm to the child itself. It will protect it from … the side effects of the Joining. It is a spell that will need to be recast periodically - about every six weeks or so - and you would need to have a mage with you who knows it." Wynne gave Bryallyn a gentle squeeze before rising to her feet. "I understand you wanting to do your duty, but are you certain this is a wise choice? For you, for the child … for your husband?"

Bryallyn closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands for a moment. "I have no reason to believe Nathaniel survived," she whispered.

"You have no reason to believe that he hasn't either," Wynne reminded her firmly.

Bryallyn sighed heavily, torn. _Do I choose based on hope, or based on what I know? _"Wynne, please understand, the way that I was raised, the things I believe - The Blight and stopping it is what matters now." She lowered her hand to rest on her stomach. "Do not misunderstand me - I want my child, desperately, if only because it may be all I have left of my husband. But there are things bigger than me, than the child, than all of … this," she spread her hands out to encompass the entire camp at Ostagar. "We must stop The Blight, and I am in a position to help with that. I would not be my father's daughter if I didn't."

She felt Wynne's eyes upon her and turned to face the older woman. "I have to go with what I know, Wynne," she explained. "If you can perform this spell, I will keep my word to Duncan and go through with the Joining."

Wynne nodded, reaching out to pat Bryallyn's hand. "I understand. I simply wanted to be certain you were making an informed decision." Smiling warmly, she added, "You are most definitely your father's daughter, Bryallyn, and I am sure he would be very proud of you."

Wiping her eyes, Bryallyn stood then, turning towards the mage. "I hope so, Wynne, I really do," she managed after a moment. "Now, shall we do this spell so that I can go meet Duncan and the others in time for the ritual?"


	33. Making Plans

_ Thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those who have set alerts and favs including: ProsePrincess, celtic-twinkie, Shakespira, EvaGalana, Piceron, Liso66, Genjutsu-Dragon, Galen Hithwen, Lannister, NuitNuit, Evalyne, Miltonia, taz3GSN, SeseGirl, OMG Munchies and Sasuke Kanojo. Your interest and reviews keep me trucking away even when I have a few issues with my muse! Thank you so much!_

_ HUGE kudos to my fabulous betas for their betaing and Gibbs smacking abilities! (My muses has been downright difficult lately!): __**Blightsworn, Erynnar, Liso66, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__ - thank you so very much, my friends! _

_ As always, Bioware owns all but what I made up..._

_**A/N:**__ Musical Inspiration: Well, as I am at work and cannot get access to my story playlist from the home computer, I will give you a few from Youtube I've been listening to as of late which have been inspiring me both here and over writing for Warden's Vigil: "The Black Cat" by Lothlorien, "This is Home" by Switchfoot, "Break Even (Falling to Pieces)" by The Script [this is the guy from American Idol this season - please check this song out - it's simply awesome!], and "That Would Be Me" by Yankee Grey._

* * *

They spent several days at the remains of the keep, scavenging what they could - armor, weapons, supplies - searching for anything that might be of assistance, worthy of trade, or small keepsakes that would help them through the rougher times that were sure to come. This last, Nathaniel knew, was mostly for Rhyan's benefit, but as they had to stay for the rest anyway, he did not mind. It was during this time that first he, and then they as a team, also began making plans for their return to Ferelden.

Nathaniel was insistent upon returning to Highever as their first destination. He and Trinion spent an afternoon searching the ruins of Doran Antell's library and managed to recover several maps, including one that showed the northern coastline of Ferelden. Accepting that they would have to depart out of Kirkwall, from there they had several destination possibilities. The problem was in deciding their priorities which in turn would determine their route.

Later that afternoon, Nathaniel pulled both Trinion and Rhyan into a discussion regarding this very topic. Laying the map out on the table before them, it was the Highever man who spoke first. "My lord, I think we can safely assume that, if he was successful, your father will now have control of the entire northern area of Ferelden," Trinion said as he used his finger to draw a line from Amaranthine along west towards Highever. "Unfortunately, given the number of troops that Teyrn Cousland sent south to Ostagar with Lord Fergus, I'm afraid that those remaining will have been woefully unprepared and outnumbered to defend against the Amaranthine troops that would have attacked."

Nathaniel closed his eyes for a long moment, but nodded his agreement with the assessment. "I have no reason to doubt that," he replied. "So the question becomes, if this is indeed the case, which port do we sail to? West Hill, Highever or Amaranthine?" Nathaniel pointed to each spot on the map. "Knowing my father, once he has secured Highever, he will return to Amaranthine, leaving his most trusted officers in charge. I would suggest because of this, as well as the fact that it is the furthest port from Kirkwall, that we do not head to Amaranthine."

Trinion nodded. "I agree."

Rhyan eyed the map closely, surveying the distances between West Hill and Highever. "Not having been to Ferelden in many years," she announced in a quiet voice, "please feel free to correct me if I am wrong, but I would suggest we sail to here," she pointed to West Hill. "If your father has indeed taken Highever, we would run into immediate opposition upon arrival. I would imagine he would have people in place to note the comings and goings of all who enter through the port."

She pointed towards West Hill again. "This is the old fortress, yes?" Nathaniel and Trinion both nodded. "I would think it doubtful, since it has been abandoned for so long, that Rendon Howe would have men stationed there. And, even should he, it would be a minimal force. His thoughts will be about consolidation of power, getting a firm grip on the people of Highever so that his rule will be effective, not about abandoned fortresses and small hamlets and the like."

She stared at the map a moment longer, then trailed her finger in a line from Highever south. "My thought is we sail for here," she pointed the area marked West Hill, "and then approach Highever. It will give us time to evaluate the territory and conditions as well, particularly since if we go through with this we may have to split up into at least two groups to be less noticeable."

Nathaniel nodded, but otherwise remained silent. He glanced out of the corner of his eye then, noting that Trinion was nodding his approval as well. "Good," he finally murmured, reaching out to retrieve the map and store it once more. He intended to bring it with them on their journey along with several others they had discovered during their earlier hunt. "We have a plan then. Tomorrow we will leave for Kirkwall to find passage back." He looked up at Trinion and Rhyan. "I will not deny the idea that we should recruit more soldiers to help us in our cause," he added in a serious tone, "but I do not dare risk the chance right now that we end up with some lackey of my father's who has either voluntarily hung around for that specific purpose or has been ordered to do so. For now, it will be the eight of us. Is that clear?" Both agreed and then left Nathaniel as he turned towards his pack and other belongings.

As he worked his way through, adjusting the items he was keeping and leaving behind, he came upon a small portfolio designed to carry communications and writing supplies. Trinion had come upon it as they searched Doran Antell's study and had given it to Rhyan. After examining it in some detail, in which both Trinion and Nathaniel had removed to the other side of the room to give her privacy, Rhyan had approached and handed it to Nathaniel. "I believe you need to see these," was all she said before turning to depart. At the time, Nathaniel simply nodded and tucked it away, but he had noticed a change in the young woman's demeanor. Now, he took the folder and moved near a window so he would have light enough by which to read. Inside he found two letters which he pulled out, resting them atop the folio as he read.

_(date is obscured by water stains)_

_Lord Antell:_

_It is with the expressed interest, advice and endorsement of Teyrn Bryce Cousland that I write and ask your consideration of my son Nathaniel to join your ranks for the remainder of his instruction. He has, my lord, been with Arl Leonidas Bryland for many years, and recently returned from his training there. Before such time as he is to be made a knight in my service, I would seek further training for him. To that end, Teyrn Cousland, with full knowledge of Nathaniel's natural instincts and combat abilities, has recommended you and your shadow rogues as suitable extension to my son's current capabilities. I eagerly await your response, and hope that our alliance may prove to be most agreeable._

_With sincerest respect,_

_Rendon Howe_

Nathaniel lifted his brow at this. The memories of that time in his mind were very different from what the letter indicated. As far as he knew, his father had made the arrangements with Antell due to Nathaniel's loss in his and Bryallyn's archery competition at the palace, not because of the end of his service with Arl Bryland. He could still picture Rendon Howe's displeasure after that particular bout, his disgust that his son not only had lost to a woman, but a Cousland. Nathaniel had ignored the tirade though, being used to his father's behavior by then. Had he missed something else as well?

Turning his attention to the second letter, he began reading again.

_17 Harvestmere, 9:29_

_Vigil's Keep, Amaranthine_

_Lord Antell,_

_I wish you to know that your appalling attitude of openly colluding with the Orlesians alongside Teyrn Cousland, both concerns and dismays me. I sent my son to you in good faith to train, to learn and to become worthy of being a knight, only to find out that not only are you and Bryce in collusion with the Orlesians, but have even managed to turn my own son against me - my heir even - in your persuasions. Do not believe for one moment that this shall go without protest or retribution. Your traitorous nature shall be brought under control by any means necessary. I shall also endeavor to find some way to make certain your influence and control over other members of the Ferelden nobility will no longer be as prevalent. Be warned, Antell, your influence over those who are in positions of power in Ferelden as well as those who govern shall not prevail._

_Arl Rendon Howe_

Nathaniel reread the letter three times wondering each time if he had not misread it. Why would his father think this? Why would he make up such falsehoods and risk an international incident? What could he possibly hope to gain by such behavior…? Staring out the window in front of him, Nathaniel pondered these questions until he came to the realization that he didn't even understand his father's thought process. How could he in two years go from praising the man and his abilities in training men to accusing him of … collusion? conspiracy? And to bring Bryallyn's family - Bryallyn and himself even - into this as well?

_Dev said as much,_ he recalled suddenly. _Something about a connection to the Orlesians … but … how? When? Why? I never saw evidence of anything! It makes no sense. There is no reason for Father or Dev to lie about that … is there?_ Nathaniel frowned, his eyes narrowing as he stared out at the darkening sky. He thought back to that last conversation with Devlyn, aboard ship. _He wants it all … and he has support from above …._

Staring down at the two missives he still held, Nathaniel returned them to the folio and secured them in his pack. These he would have to hold on to until such a time as he could confront his father … or worse. _Lies … murder … what is he after?_

As Trinion stepped back into the room then, turning towards Nathaniel with a purposeful stride, it suddenly dawned on Nathaniel that the reasons didn't matter at all. The mounting proof of his father's misdeeds was all that would be necessary to find him guilty. And, though there was a part of him that did not want to believe that his father could have done this (who would ever want to believe someone willingly wanting to do such a thing?), Nathaniel knew it was too late to believe anything but what was directly in front of him. Sighing with reluctant acceptance, he nodded his acknowledgement at Trinion and secured the letters in his pack before moving to join the older man once more.


	34. Into the Belly of the Beast

_Oh the writer's block that set in just after beginning this chapter! I apologize for the long, long delay in publishing - my muse decided to go AWOL! And, no I was not playing DA2 (watched hubby play to get the info on Kirkwall found below, but my game still sits waiting for attention). I have not forgotten this story by any stretch of the imagination!_

_Thank you to all who have continued to read, review and fav, as well as those setting alerts including: lifeotto, forever-in-my-mind, InkiBlinkiPinki, Anylde, Winged Butterfly, Kuro the Darkness Fox, T. Karasu, Tsedby, Naryfiel Lilith, SweetBlasphemy9, Novemus Prime, Rosabell, BrigBerg, kittykat2892, NuitNuit, Liso66, ProsePrincess, Piceron, Erynnar, Miltonia, Kimber75, jen4306, LadyJenna33, chasing26, I-don't-like-pen-names, Naomis8329, mackillian, village larks and kalliecrazie. I hope I didn't forget anyone! Thank you all for your interest and for being so patient! I am hoping my muse will stick around for a while now!_

_Huge hugs and snugs to my fabulous betas who have constantly encouraged (and occasionally badgered!) me through this time: __**Erynnar, MireliAmbar, VioletTheirin and Liso66.**__ Thanks is hardly enough, but you know I couldn't do this without you!_

_As always Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N:**__ Musical inspiration: It was harder to come up with inspiration this time given the writer's block. Nothing seemed to budge my muse, but in the end I resorted to two CDs on which I usually rely for my writing whether it is Dragon Age or something else: The OST from the movie The Piano, and Blackmore's Night's album Shadow of the Moon. Hopefully, next chapter will be a bit more … diverse. :)_

* * *

They left the Antell estate before sunrise and made good time. They were prepared for trouble should any occur, but the journey to Kirkwall was uneventful. Before they entered the city, however, Nathaniel pulled Rhyan and Trinion aside. "I think it will serve our purposes best if we enter the city in two groups," he explained. "On the off chance that my father does have spies still here, we would be wise to use extreme caution."

Trinion was immediate in his agreement. "We cannot afford to underestimate him at this point. Not if we wish to be successful with our plans."

Rhyan looked over at Nathaniel. "How you propose to do this then?"

"I will go with you and your men, Rhy," he told her. "There may still be people who might recognize me from my time here in service to Lord Antell. If so, seeing us together will be …more normal than seeing me with Trinion and Highever's men." He turned towards Trinion. "When you have entered, head first to the Hightown market district and restock our supplies as best you can. If you have any trouble locating anything, try the Lowtown markets. Rhy and I will head to the docks to see what we can find for passage, preferably leaving tonight or first thing in the morning. I don't want to have to wait over long here."

"Yes, my lord," Trinion replied. "Shall we meet in one of the market districts when we're through? We can compare information and make our final decision from there."

Rhyan spoke quietly. "There is a tavern in Lowtown called _The Hanged Man_. It's a well known establishment, frequented by all types of individuals. I think we could blend in well there. We might also be lucky enough to obtain rooms for the night if necessary."

Nathaniel nodded. Looking at Trinion, he saw the Highever guard as he nodded. "I remember the place," he acknowledged. He gave Nathaniel a long look before turning away and adding, "I will see you there, my lord. May the Maker guide your steps."

Nathaniel chuckled as the other man left. _Subtle, Trinion, very subtle_.

"Tell me again how you joined forces with that man?" Rhyan muttered.

Nathaniel frowned. "Rhy, my father-in-law sent them with me - and it's a damned good thing he did or I'd be dead already by Dev's hand."

Rhyan sighed. "I know, I know," she replied.

They started towards the docks then, Nathaniel leading the way and Rhyan remaining by his side. After come careful observation they determined six possible ships that might work for their needs. From that point, Nathaniel led Rhyan to each of the ships individually, both working in tandem to question the captains and determine which met their needs. Several hours after they began, Nathaniel and Rhyan turned towards Lowtown and began heading to _The Hanged Man_. Once they reached the district, Nathaniel and Rhyan headed to the tavern while Rhyan's men went off to stock up on their own supplies, agreeing to meet back at the tavern later that evening so that a final decision could be made as well as final preparations for departure.

They found Trinion seated in a dark corner, Grayson beside him. Both men were speaking quietly, drinks beside them. Nathaniel did not see Nyles or Padraig nearby, but that did not mean they were not. Looking down at Rhyan, he tilted his head slightly in their direction, indicating she should go over to sit before he stepped away to head to the bar. A few moments later, he was taking a seat with them, sliding a mug of ale towards Rhyan as he did. "Business successfully concluded?" he asked.

Trinion nodded. "And yours?"

Nathaniel took a long pull from his ale as he sat back. He looked for all the world a man relaxing after a long, hard day at work, but his companions knew better. Rhyan remembered from their time together as squires, and Trinion and the other Highever men were still learning that Nathaniel Howe was a man of deception when necessary.

"We have two options," Nathaniel finally sat forward to explain. Over the course of the next half hour, he and Rhyan recounted their time at the docks, the options available. "I am of the mind we depart tonight," he concluded. "I do not wish to remain here overlong … After all that has happened, my instincts are screaming that there were men left behind. The longer we remain, the greater the chance something goes wrong."

Both Trinion and Rhyan agreed, though Nathaniel suspected that they would have despite his arguments. Nathaniel reached for the pouch at his waist and silently handed it over to Grayson. "You know the location of the ship?"

Grayson nodded. He'd been listening closely as they had talked, taking mental note of everything that was said. It didn't hurt either that he'd spent time earlier in the afternoon exploring the docks once completed with his errands. "Yes, my lord," he replied quietly.

Nodding, Nathaniel told him, "Passage for eight then, best terms you can arrange." He saw Grayson smile at Trinion before downing the remainder of his drink and rising to leave. "I will be back shortly," the guard promised.

Before Nathaniel could question Trinion, the slender frame of one of the serving wenches leaned in to replace their drinks with fresh ones. "Can I get you lot anything else?" she queried. All three shook their head and she soon turned to leave.

Nathaniel glanced at Trinion then and lifted a brow slightly in question, though his eyes followed after the wench for a moment. After she disappeared behind the bar, he turned back and asked, "Something I should know about?"

The guard captain chuckled. "Grayson is our … negotiator," he explained as he took a long drink. "He will get you the best deal there is to be had."

Nathaniel nodded and took another drink. And, despite all of the concern regarding what they might find upon their return to Highever, he did manage a small rumble of laughter. "That could come in handy," he commented after a time.

They were still at the table when Grayson returned. As the man sat, he set the coin pouch upon the table and pushed it back towards Nathaniel. Nathaniel nodded, lifting the bag and felt his eyes widen in surprise at how heavy it remained. Looking over at the rogue, he murmured, "Nicely done," before pocketing the rest.

Grayson simply nodded. "We are to be there in two hours time," he explained. "We will leave with the tide this evening."

Nathaniel drained the last of his ale, noting that Rhyan and Trinion did the same. "Right then. Let's find the others and get ourselves organized."

* * *

He sat in the dark corner, a mug of ale in one hand, a pretty serving wench on his lap. It was a familiar scene, one he had been developing for some time (and one in which the pretty wench was paid handsomely to cooperate) as he waited for a sign. His assignment was simple, and one that was best accomplished in an easy, open manner such as this. No one would even begin to suspect what he was about.

His sign finally arrived that evening.

As his eyes followed the foursome, he continued his charade. Four had come in originally, then two more. He had not seen any leave until that moment. Patience kept him from making a mistake. A quarter of an hour after the first group left, two more followed. _All present and accounted for_, he thought.

"The docks, you said?" he asked her once more as he nuzzled her neck.

She giggled softly, but nodded. "Yes. I heard the captain's name mentioned. He runs a ship, _Queen of the Seas_, and is set to depart this evening."

Gently removing her from his lap, he set her upon her feet and rose. Pulling some coins from his pocket, he placed them in her hand and closed her fingers around them. "A little something extra for your assistance," he told her with a quick kiss to her cheek.

She gave him a quick look, a wistful smile crossing her face. "You are leaving then?"

He nodded. "Sadly, my business takes me elsewhere." Lifting her hand and kissing the back of it, he added, "Until next time, cherie."

She pocketed the coin as she watched him leaving the tavern, easily slipping into the dark. Her thoughts trailing after him for just a moment, wondering about him … until the shout from a nearby table caught her attention. Sighing, she turned and called back, "Don't let your knickers get in a twist! I'll be there in a moment!"

* * *

The third day out at sea found Nathaniel topside and staring out over the deck at the rolling seas. The weather was choppy and rough, and the ship was being jostled about quite a bit. Throughout it all, Nathaniel was trying his damnedest to keep his thoughts from trailing to the inevitable: the loss of his bride and her family at the hands of his father. However, the more time he spent below deck, the more he realized that it was a futile effort. He knew not what he would find when they arrived in Highever, but deep down, he knew it would not be good. All he could hope, vain though it might be, was that somehow his message had made it to Bryallyn and the Couslands before his father had attacked the castle … or that somehow, for whatever reason, Devlyn had been lying.

"You are setting your hopes up only to have them dashed," Rhyan said softly as she joined him at the rail.

"I can't give up on her or her family," Nathaniel replied. "If there is even the slightest chance that they are safe, I have to believe in it."

They stood in silence for a time, each to their own thoughts. "I'm sorry about Dev," Nathaniel finally told her quietly. "I know you and he …."

Rhyan snorted. "Dev was his own man," she told him. "There was never anything more between us than friendship. Am I disappointed that he chose as he did? Yes. Do I believe he was used as a pawn by your father? Again, yes." She pulled her gaze in and turned to face Nathaniel. "Your father has a lot to answer for, I will tell you that now."

"Of that I have no doubt," Nathaniel replied. He stood there thinking about Dev for the longest moment. He could not understand the other man's drive: why had he done it? Surely there had to be reasons other than for Delilah's hand in marriage or paying off gambling debts. Was his father more involved than he'd first thought?

He felt Rhyan's eyes upon him as he continued to watch the seas. "I know what you are thinking, Rhy," he said quietly.

She chuckled. "Do you really?" she returned.

Turning, Nathaniel placed his arms across his chest and looked down at her. "You are wondering if I can do this; go after my father and make him pay for his crimes." He saw the surprise in her eyes and knew he'd hit home. "The answer is yes. We may be related by blood, but he is no father to me. Not any longer." Sighing, he scrubbed his hands over his face. "I don't expect you to understand it, Rhy, but the moment he pulled Bryallyn and her family into his planning is the moment he forfeited any connection to me."

Nathaniel straightened then and gestured towards the path leading to the doorway below deck. They were nearing the entryway, just turning to enter when Nathaniel felt a heavy weight against him. Turning to his left, he both braced himself and reached out to help catch the person falling against him which, given the current state of rough seas, was not surprising. "My pardons," the man mumbled as he righted himself.

"Not at all," Nathaniel replied before turning his attention back to Rhyan and leading her to relative safety from the elements below.

* * *

He watched the couple depart through the doorway before turning and walking down the deck towards the bow. He laughed silently to himself. That had been all too easy and reminded him just a bit of the days of his youth spent picking pockets and causing mischief. He wondered how long it would take the younger man before he noticed the addition to the contents of his pocket ….


	35. Brothers and Sisters

_Dare I say it? The muse is BACK! (I know, I know … I just jinxed myself to eternal damnation, but I am excited!) At any rate, here is the next installment, and only two or three days after the last - a vast improvement over the three month or so absence before that! :)_

_Thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked as well as those who set favs and alerts - I was truly astonished how many of you have stuck with me! Thank you! This chapter I would like to personally thank: LilLaoRyo704, Grayson Dalle, bekjen93, Mystricka, Lillie Cullen, Miltonia, Prose Princess, NuitNuit and Sesegirl. Thank you all!_

_Thank you to my fabulous betas for their patience and friendship: __**MireliAmbar, Erynnar, Liso1966**__ and __** VioletTheirin**__. Also, HUGE thank you to __**Freckles04 **__and her assistance with the description of the archdemon's roar below when my brain decided to try to quit on me at just the wrong moment!_

_As always, Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N:**__ Musical Inspiration: Now, I have a number of songs that truly inspire me as far as the whole Grey Warden/Joining thing goes, so you may see these reappearing throughout the story, but here goes: "The Blood That Moves the Body" by A-ha; "Blood Bound" by Hammerfall; "Through the Fire and Flames" by Dragon Force; "Point of Know Return" by Kansas; "Any Means Necessary" by Hammerfall; "I'm Alive" by ELO_ _and "Mighty Wings" by Cheap Trick. There were others too, but this is quite a list, so enjoy and I'll find places for the others._

* * *

_The waiting is always the hardest part_, Bryallyn thought as she glanced over at Alistair. They, Daveth and Ser Jory were waiting in the old temple, part of the extensive ruins to be found at Ostagar, for Duncan to arrive and lead them through the Joining ritual. Though not inclined to be in a chatty mood, Bryallyn discovered that Jory was more than up to compensating for her reticence.

"The more I hear about this joining the less I like it," the knight of Redcliffe was saying. Bryallyn was doing her best not to openly cringe at the man's comments, but … honestly! He'd been made a knight, yet he came across as such a coward at times!

Bryallyn vaguely heard Daveth challenge the knight, as he had been doing on and off since the three had been assigned to Alistair for the quest to obtain darkspawn blood. Out in the Wilds, he'd been the same, and his attitude, his comments, his overall presence was becoming a nuisance in her opinion. He was doing nothing to recommend the knights of Redcliffe to her at the moment.

"Why all these damn tests? Have I not earned my place?"

Bryallyn fought an overwhelming urge to go over and throttle the man, to point out that the aggravations he was having to go through now were nothing compared the the loss of one's family and home. She didn't hear what Daveth said this time, having turned away to hide her disgust from both men. But she did hear Jory's follow up comment. "I only know that my wife is in Highever with a child on the way. If they had warned me … it just doesn't seem fair."

_Maker's ass, that did it!_ Spinning around on her heel, her irritation about to boil over, Bryallyn took a step towards them … and was stopped by a strong hand on her arm. Glancing up, she found Alistair there shaking his head. Silently, he led her off to the side, just out of hearing distance from the others. Frowning up at him, she started, "Alistair -"

"Bryallyn, don't. The ritual is … well, it is a test of sorts, but it has different effects on all those involved. Those who are chosen are meant to be chosen. Those who are not, do not succeed."

She glanced at Alistair's face closely as he spoke, wondering at some of his word choices. It was clear to her that he was being very selective. "He's blubbering like a child," she muttered, turning her head away. Suddenly, she was hit with a moment of clarity and found herself putting everything into perspective. _And are you not doing the same?_ she asked herself. Sighing, she lifted a hand to run over her face. "Alistair, I'm sorry …." She looked back at him, noticing then that his lopsided smile was making itself known once more, and that in itself was enough to trigger a smile for her. Despite everything else - her own losses, her fear for her child, even the insecurities to be had with becoming a Warden - all of that fell to the background for the moment.

Alistair reached out to pat her shoulder awkwardly. "No worries," he murmured. Then with a slight reddening of his cheeks and neck, he admitted, "I … I know you are concerned. About the affects of the ritual … on your child …."

Bryallyn lifted her brow at him. "You know?"

His cheeks darkened a bit more. Nodding, he admitted, "Yes. Both Duncan and Wynne spoke with me. They wanted me to be aware … just in case …."

Bryallyn smiled at him then and reached out to pat his arm gently. "Thank you." She paused a moment then, a thought occurring to her, and added, "Alistair, can I … ask a favor of you?"

The blond man nodded. "If it is within my power to do so, of course," he told her in his open, honest way.

Smiling, Bryallyn continued, "If the worst should happen … would you find Fergus for me? When his patrol returns from the Wilds, I mean? Tell him what happened? Tell him …." Her voice trailed off, unable or unwilling to put it into words.

Alistair's reply was quick and reassuring. "Of course I will."

Turning their attentions back to the others, Bryallyn heard Jory saying, "I've just never faced a foe I could not engage with my blade."

Sighing, Bryallyn dropped her head slightly and stared at the ground. She felt a hand upon her shoulder, squeezing gently to offer silent support. "You know," she told Alistair quietly as she struggled to hide her frustrations with the knight, "if this is the calm before the storm, I think I'll take the storm." She thought she heard a strangled snicker from Alistair and she smiled. Some of the tension had fallen away with her comment, and more had left with his reaction. Now was time to see what she could do about what remained.

Turning slightly so that she could face him once more, Bryallyn said quietly, "I'm sorry … that was rather uncharitable of me. Perhaps I should simply have said, 'It takes all kinds,' yes?" Another snicker, a quirk of the lips, and she was grinning at him. Lifting a brow at him, she admitted, "Fergus used to tell me that my attempts at humor were like a bronto waltzing over a table filled with glasses."

She did not dare look at him then as she heard strangled laughs being forced back. "No," he choked out after a moment, "that … that wasn't bad." She finally dared a look up at him and found him struggling to regain his composure. She understood the ritual was serious, but given everything else that was going on in her life, she needed a bit of off-humor to release the tension before going through with it. She now found that it had indeed helped.

She turned when she heard Duncan walking into the ruins, and felt a hand at her back as Alistair guided her back over to join the others. As they neared, she heard Duncan talking about the Joining. "We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the first."

Duncan gestured for Alistair to recite them, and Bryallyn closed her eyes to listen completely.

_Join us, brothers and sisters._

_Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant._

_Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn._

_And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten._

_And that one day we shall join you._

As Duncan turned to retrieve a chalice set upon a table nearby, Bryallyn heard Alistair explaining, "Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the archdemon."

Duncan faced Bryallyn, Daveth and Jory then, signalling to Daveth that he was to be the first. "Daveth, step forward." Daveth did so, and Duncan handed the rogue the chalice from which he took a drink. Bryallyn watched, realizing then exactly what was happening and why the ritual was so dangerous … to both herself and her child. As Daveth's body fell to the ground before her, and she heard Jory beginning to protest again, Bryallyn could only focus her thoughts on her discussion with Wynne, sending forth what prayers she knew that the mage's spell had worked and would protect her child. _This is why Duncan gave me a chance to back away._

As she came back to herself, she noticed that Alistair had moved up to position himself beside her, blocking her view slightly from what had happened with Duncan and Jory. Though, when Duncan returned, it was clear what had happened as Bryallyn noticed a fresh bloodstain on the Commander's armor. "Bryallyn Cousland, you are called upon to …."

Duncan's words faded from her ears as Bryallyn took a step forward, lifting the chalice into her hands. _Nathaniel, love, forgive me if I have made the wrong choice!_ She tilted the cup then, allowing some of the odious liquid to slide between her lips and down her throat. Almost immediately, she could feel the weight of the chalice shift as the cup slid from her hands. She thought she might be falling then, the very sights and sounds around her muffled, blurred, moving.

* * *

_I am floating … there is no ground upon which to stand. I can see nothing but …._

_She drew back in horror as a huge, dark, ..scaled creature rose above her then, its roar deafening not so much in its volume or sound as in sheer strength. She automatically reached for her bow … to find that she did not have it. Secondly, she reached for her daggers, but again, nothing. The creature spread its wings then, unfurling them to such a distance that made Bryallyn feel minute in comparison. Though she was certain it would not work, she tried using her skills to communicate with it, to reach out and talk with it. All she received in return was another bellowing roar._

_She had to force the panic away, taking deep breaths to quell the fear. Yet still she was floating … ._

"_Bryallyn?"_

_The voice caught her off guard. She had not heard it for some time now, not since that night on the journey to Ostagar. "Nathaniel? Where? How?" She looked around, searching for him, but could not see him. _

_Another thunderous explosion of sound from the scaled creature. Automatically, Bryallyn raised her hands to cover her ears. "Bry, what …?" _

_She almost cried as she heard his voice fading out, trailing away from her. "No! Nathaniel, come back!"_

_And then she was falling again, faster than before though not in a threatening manner. She did not fear this movement. Instead, she welcomed it and reached her arms towards the end …._

* * *

When her eyes opened, Bryallyn quickly lifted an arm to protect them from the light. She felt a hand reach out then, squeezing her forearm gently, reassuringly, as a hand lifted to her forehead. The contrast between the coolness of the hand at her brow and the warmth of her skin was not lost on her. "H-how …?" she tried, but could not get out more than the one word.

"There, there, child," the mage's familiar voice said soothingly. "All will be well if you just lay back and rest."

She blinked a few times, her eyes finally adjusting to the light, and then lowered her arm to find herself inside a hospital tent … she supposed it was the one she had seen near the infirmary upon her arrival at the camp. To her left sat Alistair, now pulling back his hand, a slight blush to his cheeks. Bryallyn smiled at him, nodding her appreciation of his concern. To her left, sitting on the edge of the bed was Wynne. _Wynne!_ Opening her mouth, her voice a harsh whisper, Bryallyn asked, "Wynne … did the spell work?" She looked up at the older woman, her heart thudding in her chest. It was obvious that she'd passed the Joining, … but had the child?

Wynne brushed back some of Bryallyn's hair so that it did not obscure her vision. "Everything is fine, Bryallyn," Bryallyn heard the older woman assure her quietly. "The spell worked," the older mage giggled softly and Bryallyn saw amusement in her eyes, "like a charm."

"Like a …," Bryallyn found herself starting to giggle in return, but she swallowed it back quickly. They were not alone in the tent, and this was not the place to bring it up for further discussion. "Wynne, you have a wicked sense of humor," Bryallyn scolded fondly. She reached out and squeezed the woman's hand in her own. "But I do thank you."

Wynne patted Bryallyn's hand then and began to rise. "Just remember that I will need to recast it periodically until the child is born. Whether we are here, or have gone our separate ways, I will watch for you, my dear, until we can bring the child into this world safely."

Bryallyn nodded, wondering vaguely what would happen now since she was a Warden. Duncan knew of her condition, knew that they were attempting to save the child, so he must have thought ahead to what would follow … right? "I will do whatever it takes, Wynne," she finally promised.

After the mage's departure, Bryallyn turned towards Alistair. "I am assuming I passed the Joining?" she asked quietly as she slowly started moving into a seated position upon the cot. Alistair rose then, offering her a hand to assist her to her feet. Gratefully, she took it and stood.

"That you have," he replied. He then spent a few minutes quietly discussing the results of both his Joining and hers. When he noted that she seemed steady on her feet, he began leading her out of the tent and back towards the main camp. "Duncan is meeting with King Cailan and Teyrn Loghain," he explained. "He would like for you to join them if possible."

Bryallyn nodded. "Of course. Where do I find them?"

Alistair pointed her in the right direction. "Instead of turning right where you found me, turn left and head to the other end of the old hall. They should be there. I will see you back at the Warden camp afterwards."

Nodding again, Bryallyn turned to leave, but then paused. Turning back to face him, she told him sincerely, "Alistair, thank you." She saw him blush a bit, and she smiled in return. Unsure what else to say to him and not wanting to cause him further embarrassment, she turned and started off in the direction of the meeting she was to attend.


	36. Men's Hearts Hold Shadows

_Thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those setting alerts and favs including: puffer2573, rayvenstar, gkclay, Lillie Cullen, Bonkzy and Miltonia. As you can no doubt tell, the muse has me on a roll! (That is NOT a complaint, mind you!) So, woohoo! _

_Thank you to my fabulous betas without whom I would be so lost: __**MireliAmbar, Erynnar, VioletTheirin**__ and __**Liso1966**__. _

_As always, Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N:**__ Musical Inspiration: "I'm Alive" by ELO; "Closer to the Edge" by Thirty Seconds to Mars; "Eagleheart" by Strotovarius; and "Amaranth" by Nightwish._

* * *

"Mother, remind me why it is we are risking our lives for these Wardens?"

The sounds of battle could be heard far and wide, echoing through the valley, bouncing off the ruins, wafting through the forests of the Korcari Wilds. "If the Wardens do not survive, Morrigan," Flemeth told her daughter, "then _we_ do not survive." With this last came a gesture that included more than just the two apostate mages, both of whom were located well above the actual fighting in the branches of one of the taller trees. "The Blight can only be ended by them … and if we are to accomplish our goal, we need them to survive."

"Would it not be better to call in for other reinforcements?" Morrigan asked as she kept an eye upon the fighting below. It was obvious to her that the King's armies would not win … not unless his ally entered the fray, and that had yet to happen.

"What's done is done," Flemeth told her. "This decision was made long ago. Those who were to partake in the battle are here. As for the rest …."

Both women turned towards the ruins of the tower … one Tower of Ishal up in the ruins proper of Ostagar. A fiery signal burst forth, the indication that the reinforcements were to engage the field of battle. The women waited … and watched … and Flemeth shook her head sadly, but nodded as the dark haired one she had met years before gave the order to pull troops back, and in the process sacrificing the son of his friend, the husband of his daughter, and the nation's king. "Fool!" she murmured, though her emotional response to this action was neutral. Glancing over at Morrigan she said, "Girl, you are going to have a heavy burden to carry, to make sure that these Wardens survive. Are you up to the task?"

Though she would not admit to any nervousness, particularly to Flemeth, Morrigan nodded slowly. "I am ready, mother," she finally replied.

"Good." Reaching out, she pointed towards an area of the battlefield where it seemed some of the most intense fighting was taking place. "They will lose much this day. Their king, their Warden Commander … their hope. It will be up to you to guide them back."

Morrigan sighed. She did not believe she was ready for this, but she had no basis for comparison, and time had run out. As she and Flemeth watched the king fall to the hands of an ogre, and then the Warden Commander, as well as the few other Wardens in Ferelden, fall to the darkspawn, both women came to understand their roles. Reciting ancient words of transfiguration, they continued along their chosen path to aid the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden.

* * *

_Bryallyn was floating again, but though there was urgency, the danger was not the same. No huge, dark, winged creatures faced off with her, its thunderous bellows shaking the very air around her. This was more the feel of … movement, transport … change. She looked around, but saw no one, no thing. It was dark out, the stars in the sky multitudinous in their number, the waning moon along the far horizon. If she reached out her hand, she might be able to touch …._

"_Bryallyn …."_

_Her heart constricted as the familiar tones reached towards her. "Nathaniel?"_

_She looked, peering through the stars, the veil of darkness, searching … hoping …._

_The movement came to a gentle stop then and Bryallyn almost sighed at the sensation. Again, she began peering, reaching out as if to part the sky to find her husband behind the curtain of stars. _

"_Bry?"_

_She sat up - when had she laid down? - crying out to the stars, "Nathaniel, I am here!" Rising to her feet, she looked around, biting her lip as she felt a panic building. "Where are you?" Her voice was beginning to display the edginess she felt._

"_I am here."_

_A gentle touch at her shoulder, the soft deep tones of his voice. Bryallyn spun around to find him, standing there before her, just as ruggedly handsome as she remembered. Had it really been so long? Just about two months now since they had last seen each other? She reached up to touch his face, her fingers tangling lightly in the hair not pulled back out of his face. She felt him mimicking the same motions and leaned her head towards his touch. "We don't have much time, my love," she told him as she felt the tenuousness of their connection. _

_His hand moved further, though, pushing her hair away from her face as if oblivious to the fragility. "I will find you," he told her, his voice trembling with sincerity. "I will find you."_

_Bryallyn nodded, noting as she did that he was beginning to fade from her sight. "I will watch for you!" she called after him, reaching out to grasp … but finding nothing but the star-filled sky once more. Ignoring the tears rolling down her face, she lifted her hand to cover her lips, her voice whispering one last time, "I will watch for you …."_

* * *

Bryallyn shifted and felt a wave of pain race through her right shoulder and neck area … the place she recalled having been shot by … arrows? Though her eyes were still shut, she frowned. _Darkspawn arrows … an ogre … Loghain's men leaving the field … the Tower of Ishal …._

She bolted up in bed then, a cry escaping her lips as she felt another wave of pain in response to her motions. She felt a strong hand at her opposite shoulder trying to force her to lie back. Struggling to open her eyes, she found her sight blurred. Reaching up instead, she placed her hand over the one pressing her back … noticing as she did so that they were large and definitely male. Her head still focused on the images from before, she whispered, "Nathaniel?"

A second hand, this one not as large, less masculine in shape and form, removed her hand from the first, setting hers atop her torso as a vaguely familiar yet not quite reassuring voice murmured, "Ease your mind and rest your heart now, Warden, for you have many trials ahead of you which will require them both."

She felt the hand move to her forehead then, laying there for a moment. She sighed as the whispery sounds of ancient words worked their way into her consciousness … and then carried her off to a dreamless slumber.

* * *

"... until such time as you can meet up with the mage who cast this spell. If she yet lives." There was a pause, and then, "So much about this one is yet uncertain, Morrigan! And yet … I find that I believe in her. I _must_ believe."

_Still floaty_, Bryallyn noticed, yet she was able to focus more on the words being said around her. _The mage? What mage is she talking …. Wynne!_ Bryallyn's heart began to race. _Did she survive? Will I be able to find her? What about …._

"Ah, our Warden returns at last."

Bryallyn's eyes popped open as she sat up suddenly. She felt the pain surge through her shoulder, but it was nothing like what she'd felt at the time of being shot, so that was an improvement. Blinking in the dim lighting, Bryallyn found that she was able to focus better this time around. It took a few moments, but she soon found herself face to face with Morrigan and … her mother? Frowning, she blinked again. "Where … Are we at your hut?" she queried, trying to place the unfamiliar surroundings.

Morrigan's mother was standing at the foot of the bed and Morrigan just behind, kneeling beside the fire. "That you are," the woman agreed, her rough and raspy voice an interesting companion to the otherwise silent room. "Do you recall anything of what happened? Of how you got here?"

Bryallyn shifted, pulling herself back against the pillows behind her, the bedclothes lying across her lap. Lifting a hand to her head, she brushed some of the hair away from her eyes and managed, "I … I remember defeating the ogre. Alistair and Constant … and a mage?" The man had been unknown to her. "Then we lit the signal and looked out over the field … to see Teyrn Loghain retreating!" Her gaze shot up to catch the older woman's. "And then more darkspawn arrived and I was shot …." Her left hand lifted to her right shoulder then, reaching beneath the fabric of the shift she wore, touching the bandaged area lightly, more out of instinct than to examine the damage done. And then she remembered.

Her hand dropping, she asked, "Is the child all right?"

Morrigan's mother's laughter was something approaching what Bryallyn would consider a cackle. Then, with something akin to a look of understanding, she nodded. "Your child is fine," she promised. "Your friend, however …."

"My … friend?" Bryallyn echoed, then turned as she heard Morrigan make some harrumphing noise. _Alistair!_ Moving, she slide towards the edge of the bed, throwing back the bedclothes. "Where is he? He survived, right?"

The woman stepped around to the side of the bed and herded Bryallyn back beneath the covers. "Yes, yes, your friend lives," she announced with so me aggravation in her tone. "I will allow him in here shortly. "He merely is wallowing in despair and self pity at the moment due to the loss of his friends, the majority of Ferelden's army, and the betrayal of a hero."

It came back to her then, what they had seen from the tower, the men who had fallen, the retreat of Loghain's men. A dull ache began settling around Bryallyn's chest as she realized that both Cailan and Duncan would be gone forever. More deaths to add to those already lost. She was so absorbed in her thoughts she did not notice Morrigan stepping out of the hut to usher in Alistair just then … not until she heard him gasp, "You … you're alive!"

Bryallyn glanced over at him. "I will be fine," she told him as he crossed closer. "Are you all right?" She'd seen him take a hit from the darkspawn arrows just as she'd gone down … or so she thought.

Alistair nodded. "Yes … Morrigan's mother managed to -"

"Do not talk about me as if I am not present," the woman scoffed.

Bryallyn lifted her gaze back to the woman as Alistair began to sputter protests. Reaching out, Bryallyn squeezed his forearm until he quieted at which point she commented, "What shall we call you then?"

Another half cackle half laugh as she replied, "The Chasind call me Flemeth ... I suppose that will do."

_Flemeth? Daveth's Witch of the Wilds?_ Bryallyn's brain began spinning with the announcement, but she let the thought go as she heard Alistair beginning to protest once more. Squeezing his arm again until he silenced, she asked, "You were the one who rescued us then?"

Flemeth nodded. "Morrigan and I did, yes. It was unfortunate that nothing could be done for your leaders or you army. Aside from the retreat of your Teyrn Loghain and his men, there were some others who managed to escape … though few in number."

Bryallyn felt her chest squeeze painfully again. _Fergus?_ Removing her hand from Alistair, she lifted it to pinch the bridge of her nose to ward off a headache. "This doesn't seem real," she heard Alistair argue. "Why would Loghain do this?"

"That," Flemeth replied, her voice a bit sharp with her emphasis, "is a good question. Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature."

There had been something odd in the way that Flemeth had made that pronouncement, and Bryallyn found herself looking back at the woman. _Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature._ The words echoed through her head. Well, that description fit Loghain to a T, she thought, as well as Rendon Howe. Who else might it cover? Bryallyn increased the pressure on her nose for a moment, desperately needing the ability to focus. As she did, she heard Alistair and Flemeth begin to discuss what would happen next.

"... Not to mention … I don't know how!"

Bryallyn blinked. _Don't know how to what?_

Alistair turned towards her as if he'd heard her thoughts. "Only Wardens know how to or can defeat a Blight," he explained. "But I'd never been instructed on any of it - I've only been a Warden for six months!"

Nodding her understanding, Bryallyn murmured, "Well, we will have to figure this out on our own then. Surely there must be some way we can replenish the army? Not everyone was lost," she looked over at Flemeth, "right?"

"You will need to start from scratch, as it were," she announced, much to Bryallyn's dismay. "Those who were not pulled back by your Loghain were very few in number, and now would be scattered to the winds of Ferelden."

Bryallyn frowned. Something was nagging at the back of her mind. She tried to picture it, to remember where she had been when she heard it … and she found herself staring at Alistair. He was looking at her oddly, which she could not blame him, and then he turned his head slightly and she gasped. Something about …. And then the memory came to her. "Arl Eamon," she told him, her fingers snapping. "Arl Eamon has his troops still at Redcliffe. I heard Duncan telling King Cailan when we arrived. What if we were to go to him and see about raising an army?"

Alistair seemed stunned at first, but then Bryallyn saw his eyes widen, taking on a bit of hope from the idea. "Eamon is Cailan's uncle," he added. "He certainly would help. I know him - he's a good man."

Bryallyn recalled meeting the man upon occasion as well. "What about those treaties Duncan had us find?" she asked next. She watched Alistair give her a blank look. "The ones from our last journey into the Wilds? The ones Flemeth gave us?" She heard Flemeth chuckle from her position off to the side of the room. "Treaties are agreements, are they not? Of assistance promised between two groups of individuals?"

"Yes, yes of course," Alistair agreed.

"Well then," Flemeth announced, stepping back over to join their conversation once more. "It sounds as if you have the makings of an army after all, doesn't it. And I have one last, precious gift that I can offer you as well."

They were interrupted then when the door to the hut opened, and Morrigan stepped back inside. When all eyes turned on her, the woman scowled at each one of them in turn. "What? Have I grown a wart on my nose?" she demanded.

Bryallyn almost choked when she heard Alistair mutter for her ears only, "That would be an improvement, don't you think?"

"Girl, pack your things. The Wardens will be leaving shortly, to begin their journey. You must go with them to ensure their survival." When Morrigan began sputtering protests, Flemeth crossed over to speak with her more privately.

It was at that point that Bryallyn began moving off the bed. Alistair moved to assist her, giving her an arm to lean on if she required it. "We're really going to take her with us?" he muttered.

Bryallyn gave him a considering look. "We need all the help we can get, Alistair," she reminded him. She saw him nod. She began reaching for her clothing then, and her armor. When she started to pull on her breeches, she noticed him blushing and she smiled. "Why don't you shield me from view with your back," she suggested and noted the look of thanks in his eyes. Once he had turned, she quickly donned her clothing and then reached for her armor. She was examining her chest piece when she noted that the holes from the arrows that had hit her were mended. The repair job had been done well, and would buy her some time until they reached a proper town or city in which she could find a more suitable replacement. "Did you do this?" she asked.

Alistair glanced over his shoulder quickly and, when he realized she was more or less presentable, turned to explain, "I did. It was pretty straight forward," he added, "but I thought you could still get some wear out of it until …."

Bryallyn gave him a smile of thanks and appreciation. "I can and I will," she replied. "Thank you."

He blushed again at her words, and Bryallyn's smile softened. She pulled on the piece, moving quickly to tighten the familiar straps and fasteners until it was the way she liked it. The only area of concern for her was her shoulder where the leather would rub up against the bandages, but that was soon adjusted and she was ready to go except for her weapons, her pack and …. "Constant!"

Bryallyn realized then, suddenly, that her ever faithful hound had not been nearby. Her heart wrenching at the thought, she managed to ask, "Were you able to rescue my hound by any chance?"

Flemeth turned back towards them then, Morrigan following. "We were only able to take you both," she explained. "But fear not. Mabari are intelligent animals. I suspect your friend is simply out there looking for you as we speak."

Though she did not want to get her hopes up only to have them dashed, Bryallyn did take heart at the woman's words. "We should be leaving then," she said a moment later as she sheathed her daggers, shouldered her pack and her bow. Turning towards Flemeth, she told her, "Thank you … for everything."

Again, the cackle, Bryallyn noted. "Do not thank me yet, young woman," she intoned. "Your journey is just beginning, and you have much to accomplish." Then with what could be construed as a smile, she added, "Take heart in the friends and allies you meet along the way. Old or new, all will provide you with something that you need to help you through."

Bryallyn nodded and looked up at Alistair. "Are you ready?" He nodded his agreement. Turning towards Morrigan, she tilted her head slightly at the young witch. "And you? Your mother has offered us your assistance, but I would not force you to join us if you do not wish to."

There was a surprised look in Morrigan's eyes, Bryallyn noticed, and for just a moment she thought the woman might remain silent. "My destiny lies with you," she finally stated. "I will show you the way out of the Wilds safely. I would suggest we head to Lothering first, where you will be able to resupply and perhaps find information as to what the current state of affairs is now that your king lies dead."

Bryallyn nodded, fighting the sudden dread at that last thought. Had her father been alive, things might be different. Shaking her thoughts away, she turned at last towards the door and led the way out, her mind trying to focus ahead and not behind.


	37. Ferelden In Our Sights

_Again, real life has reared its ugly head and put me behind schedule with my posting. At this point, I do not know how it will affect posting after this chapter, but I hope it will start easing soon. If there is nothing else I know it is that real life must come first! However, the ideas are still popping away, and there is plenty (and I DO mean plenty!) more to come in this story. This one is so near and dear to my heart I do not intend to stop writing until it is complete!_

_Thank you as always for those how have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those who have faved and alerted including: Brigberg, deadlung, Bellar, ghostchild606, lcook93, rukialover174, Parliament of Ravens, , morganalefaye2003, Amethyne, Mikka89mak, Happy-Red-Rabbit, Munz, Trevilliana Darkmoon, naomis8329, Umaguma, RainDancer823, Commander Kurt, Elengaer, JaenelleSen, Saerry Snape, meadowinfatuation, Simplegurl22, lillie cullen, gunner8202 and Prose Princess. Thank you all for reading and for sticking with me!_

_Thank you to my wonderful betas without whom I would surely lose my mind: __**Erynnar, MireliAmbar **__and__** VioletTheirin**__. Thank you my friends for your patience, your guidance and your friendship!_

_**A/N:**__ Musical inspiration for this chapter: honestly, I didn't crack the mp3 player at all for this one, and at the moment I am in preparation for July 4th celebrations so songs from __**1776 **__are running through my head. Somehow I don't think "Sit down, John" helped with this chapter! Enjoy the chapter and I will do my best to search out some musical suggestions for the next one. :)_

* * *

Though dark with heavy and high seas, Nathaniel stood at the rail of the ship staring out into the distance towards Ferelden. For the second time in the past few days, he had dreamt of Bryallyn, and the dreams had left him with nothing but concern and an unsettled feeling.

The first one had been vague. Bryallyn had been present - Nathaniel had heard her voice - but there had been a wall of sorts in between them, obscuring her from his vision. Something blocking him from seeing that she was actually present. But he had been able to sense her fear, had heard a thunderous rumbling roaring sound that had sent chills of fright and worry down his spine, and yet he had not seen the source for this either.

Nathaniel had tried to set the disturbing thoughts aside, to focus on his mission and not half-formed hopes or ideas of which he had no real knowledge if they were even real.

And then there had been a second dream. It had started in a similar fashion - the sound of Bryallyn's voice, but no sight of her … until quite suddenly, she had been before him. He had reached out and touched her - her shoulder, her face, her hair. He had spoken to her then too. Something more than her name, his voice adamant in its insistence. "I will find you!" he had told her. As soon as he had said it, he had felt their connection breaking. As quickly as he had found her, he had been tumbling back to reality, finding himself waking in his bed on board the ship. But, in that half-moment that could be found between dreams and wakefulness, he could have sworn he had heard her reply, "I will watch for you …."

Now, the peace of sleep long forgotten, Nathaniel remained on deck at the rail staring at the distant borders of his homeland … wondering at the chaos that would be found upon arrival. That it would be there, he did not question. Between Dev's words, the dreams, and what they had found at the Antell estate, Nathaniel knew full well that he was walking into something different, something much larger and broader than he could ever have envisioned … something that had happened at the hands of his father. The question remained, however: How far did it extend?

As dawn broke around him, Nathaniel's thoughts were broken by the noise of the ship's crew as they hustled and bustled around him, intent upon their duties. Nathaniel paused to observe them, desperate he supposed for something to distract him from his current thoughts and worries.

The captain walked over to Nathaniel then, nodding his greeting as he approached. Nathaniel nodded in return and adjusted his stance to be more open, more welcoming. Nathaniel had spoken to the man upon several occasions since boarding in Kirkwall and found him to be a decent, hardworking person. "How much longer until we arrive at West Hills, Captain?" Nathaniel asked.

The man was considerably older, his face weathered by the years and the elements. "I suspect by late afternoon or early evening today," he replied.

Nathaniel nodded. He was considering how to ask for the information he really needed when he heard the Captain announce, "I would suggest that you hold your departure until after dark. There are more patrols out now that the Arl of Amaranthine has taken control of Highever, and his influence does extend this far south."

Nathaniel winced and glanced away, fury, shame and despair beginning to overwhelm him. _So it is true then._

"The patrols themselves are nothing you should not be able to evade," the Captain continued giving Nathaniel a knowing look. "But why take any unnecessary chances, eh?"

Nathaniel frowned. It was becoming clear to him that the man knew more than what he was letting on. Did he recognize Nathaniel? Granted, the nose sort of gave him away, but only if one had seen Rendon Howe up close and personal before. Did the Captain know more of what had or currently was happening at Highever?

His questions presumably were expected or Nathaniel had lost the ability to hide what he felt because the Captain told him quietly, "Much has happened in the past few weeks. This is the main reason I sail for West Hills now instead of Highever itself. You would do well to remember, young man," the look he gave Nathaniel was as hard as it was telling, "that the Arl of Amaranthine will to go _any lengths_ to remove those in his way."

Nathaniel straightened, his eyes widening. The things that Dev had told him had really happened. Nodding at the man, Nathaniel asked simply, "Everyone?"

Here the Captain smiled sadly and shrugged his shoulders. "That is hard to know," he returned. "Rumor has it that the Teyrn's son was out of the castle when it happened. There are also rumors that the daughter escaped and that straggling members of the Teyrn's forces are returning by ones and twos to start up a resistance in Highever." The Captain shrugged again. "These are things of which I have no knowledge. What I do know is that the Teyrn along with the Teyrna, the daughter-in-law and grandchild were all killed. These are the known facts as of the last time I was in port there."

Nathaniel groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. Little Oren? Oriana? Bryce and Eleanor, yes, Nathaniel could see the logic (though he certainly did not agree with it) to removing them if his father's intentions had been to take over the Teyrnir, but Fergus' wife? His child? "You are … positive?" Nathaniel rasped.

"To my never ending dismay, lad, yes. I was docked in Highever the days following. I went into the town, walked by the castle gates. Let us just say that the … display they had there left no doubt about it."

Nathaniel felt ill. He listened to the Captain talk for a bit longer, but finally could take it no more. Raising a hand to ward off further conversation, he managed, "I … I shall be careful, Captain. Thank you for the warning. For now, however …." He felt the Captain's eyes upon his back the entire walk to the stairs leading to the rooms below deck. Nathaniel needed to speak with Trinion. This journey was going to be much more difficult than he had first imagined.

* * *

The waning silver sliver of a moon was high in the night sky when Nathaniel led the others to the deck of the ship. They had arrived in port late that afternoon and by the time the ship had found an open berth and docked, the sun was beginning to settle in the west for the day. Most of the passengers on bard disembarked immediately, but Nathaniel and his companions had waited. Per the Captain's earlier comments and advice, and through consultation with both Trinion and Rhyan, they had all agreed to wait until dark for their departure.

When the skies finally darkened, Nathaniel led his small party off of the ship. They traveled quickly, quietly and as unobtrusively as possible. It was a four and a half day journey from West Hill to Highever. It took them six nights to make it. Occasionally they caught glimpses of Howe patrols - twice in West Hill as they were exiting the old fortress village, more an more frequently the closer they came to Highever proper. It appeared that Rendon Howe was taking no chances.

Nathaniel had no fears that he would encounter his father. Rendon Howe was of the opinion _Why do for myself what my lackeys can do for me?_ As Dev's betrayal had shown, there would always be someone willing to do the mans bidding, whether by force or by choice.

Late on the sixth evening, the group came near enough to Highever proper to observe the patrols around the city walls. Though he did not recognize any of the men that he could see, Nathaniel found the armor and heraldic devices worn upon them and the shields to be the same as his fathers. Though he hadn't expected any different, the visual proof of his father's traitorous actions were more than a bit disheartening.

Nathaniel turned to the others shortly thereafter, announcing quietly that they should affect entrance into the city in smaller groups. "The key here is to remember they probably have a curfew in place, they will know who belongs and who does not. The Captain said that they do allow travelers in for trade, though he had his doubts about just how much trade was actually occurring. The last time he was here was a few days after the attack. Point is we need to keep ourselves from being recognized as one large group. I do not dare enter this way. Though I do not know many of my father's men, I have no doubt that they would recognize me for a Howe should they see me."

The silence remained in place for a long moment, partially because a patrol roamed close and partially because there was naught much else to be said. Finally, Grayson offered with a nod, "My lord, I know of another way into the city. I would suggest that you and I go this route, the others in through the gate in at least two or three separate groupings. We can meet at _The Cliff's Edge_ later."

Nathaniel looked over at Trinion and Rhyan first to solicit their thoughts, and they both agreed. "Right. One last thought, each group that goes in should have one Highever man with them to help lead the way through town. Meet at _The Cliff's Edge_ as soon as you possibly can make it safely. I will see you there."

It was still a few hours before dawn when Nathaniel found both himself and Grayson retracing their steps for a few miles away from Highever on the main road. Then, spying the turn off, Grayson had told him about, both men moved north until they were able to descend to the coast through paths twisting around the cliffs. Once at the water's edge, Grayson began leading the way along the coastline to a set of tunnels that exited onto the beach.

Years before, during the time of Bryce Cousland's great-grandfather, the natural tunnels beneath the cliffs of Highever had been found and expanded into a network that joined five main branches together. Two came directly from the castle, three from various points around the city of Highever itself, winding and twisting and weaving their way around beneath the cliffs until exiting onto the beach. At the time they had been established, it had been thought they would serve as an emergency exit of sorts in times of need. Now, they would serve as an entrance into the city for Nathaniel and Grayson so that they could keep their identities hidden from Howe patrols.

It wasn't until they had entered the tunnel system, a makeshift torch from a piece of driftwood and a sacrificial tunic wrapped around it, to help lead the way that Grayson explained to Nathaniel the history of the tunnels. "I suspect that the attack upon the castle came to quickly for them to use," he murmured sadly as they branched off along one corridor that lead towards the city itself. "Though this one looks like it might have been used."

Nathaniel remained quiet behind the man, his thoughts kept inwards. There was no accusation in the guard's tone, but Nathaniel didn't need to hear it. He felt enough guilt on his own for his father's actions. After a time, he managed to ask, "Where does this path lead?"

"It comes out in an alleyway about two blocks from _Cliff's Edge,_ my lord. If we can stay in the shadows after that, we both should be fine," he replied.

Nathaniel felt a sardonic smile pull at his lips. To think that it would be one of the skills that his father had sent him off to learn in his training that would save him from his father's men now seemed appropriate indeed. "How much longer do you think?"

Grayson was silent for a moment. "The exit is along here," he pointed down the corridor, "another five hundred yards or so. Maybe a bit longer. It's been a while since I've been down here, you see."

"Not to worry," Nathaniel assured him as he continued following. "The fact that you knew about this is enough. The question will be: do my father's men know about it? Will there be men guarding it when we arrive?"

Grayson nodded but remained silent. Then he stopped and paused for just a moment, pointing the torch out ahead of him, waving it slightly left and right. "Right then," he murmured as he dropped the torch to allow it to burn itself out on the ground. Pointing to a ladder against the wall before the flame extinguished, he added, "This is it. I will go first, my lord. Should it be under watch, go back the way we came and fast. Continue along the beach eastwards, beyond Highever. About five miles beyond is another set of caves. Trinion will know to go there if we do not show up."

Nathaniel blinked back his surprise, but quietly murmured his assent as he watched the man begin to climb. He could hear sounds from above as he stepped over to the ladder. Glancing up as the torch faded out, he could see the vague shadows of Grayson working on the barricade between them and the city. Another rattle, the sound of a shoulder being hefted into something heavy, a soft grunt from the man above and then … silence. Nathaniel drew in a breath and held it for a moment as the portal began to open.

It was clearly a trapdoor of some sort, and Nathaniel was not surprised to watch Grayson slip outside, lower it back to a closed position and leaving him in the dark, quite literally, for a short time. Had their positions been reversed, Nathaniel would have done the same: making certain no one was around to watch. In the time between, Nathaniel began climbing the ladder in an attempt to see if he could hear sounds coming from the other side that might indicate trouble. He could hear nothing. Another moment or two of silence and Nathaniel found that he was fighting to hold back attempting to open the door himself. When finally he could wait no longer and he reached to push it up, it moved away swiftly. Blinking back the brightness from above, Nathaniel heard an urgent whisper, "Quickly, my lord. The wall to your left."

Nathaniel moved without discussion, nearly leaping out of the exit and sliding into the shadows against the building in one fluid motion as Grayson lowered the trapdoor back into place before joining him. Nathaniel felt a hand upon his arm holding him in place for a long moment. It was a good thing, too, as a patrol turned down the alleyway a short distance away and went walking right by them.

Once the danger was clear, the hand upon his arm squeezed once, indicating it was clear to go. Nathaniel followed Grayson through the alleyway, down another and two blocks over until they came to a halt near a rear door to an establishment. Given the size of the structure, Nathaniel assumed it was _The Cliff's Edge_. Reaching for the door, Grayson urged, "Inside quickly."

Nathaniel moved inside, stepping to the right of the door so Grayson could enter behind him. "Now where?" he whispered.

Grayson pointed towards a back stairway. "You wait there. I will go find out which room from Galen."

Nathaniel frowned. "Galen?"

Grayson offered Nathaniel the first smile in a long while then. "Galen is my cousin and proprietor of the inn," he explained.

Nodding, Nathaniel stepped up a few stairs to remain out of sight while Grayson disappeared. He returned moments later and silently signalled Nathaniel to follow. Within minutes the two men had ascended the stairwell and were standing in front of a door labeled with the number 24. Grayson rapped his knuckles against the barricade in a distinct pattern before it was pulled open and both men were ushered inside.

"You've made it. Good."

Nathaniel turned to find Rhyan standing there, Trinion standing near the window. The others were scattered around the good sized room. "No problems getting in?" Nathaniel asked as he began removing his gear and then his outerwear.

Rhyan shook her head as she moved to assist. "None at all. It would seem that your father's men are not so well trained as your father might wish."

Nathaniel smirked before glancing over at Trinion who had turned to face him. The man's face was grim, and Nathaniel suspected he knew what the man would say next. "What is it?" he asked, bracing himself for the worst.

Trinion gestured towards the bed. "My lord, you will want to sit for this," he told him grimly.

Nodding, Nathaniel found himself silently sending prayer after desperate prayer to the Maker and Andraste for things not to be so bad as they suddenly seemed ….


	38. Lothering Journal  Front Page

_Thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked as well as those setting favs and alerts including: zeeji, Erynnar, pennelore, RhianE, RockerchickRee and Prose Princess._

_My most sincere gratitude to my fabulously patient betas: __**MireliAmbar, Erynnar **__and__** VioletTheirin**__ without whom I would not be able to do this!_

_As always, Bioware owns all but what I create …..._

_**A/N:**__ Musical inspiration: Well, this time around, I must say things moved much faster than I had thought they might! Therefore, I only have a couple of songs to send your way. "Ocean Gypsy" and "Fires at Midnight" both by Blackmore's Night were my main inspiration (aside from the music to whatever current Zelda game my son is playing on his game cube …)._

* * *

_**Firstfall, 9:30**_

_**Lothering**_

_So much has happened, and so quickly, I feel if I do not keep track of it in a journal I will never be able to recall the truth of it at a later time. Not that I particularly want to remember - we have lost so much, and most of it is incredibly painful to even touch on briefly - and yet, I find myself compelled to keep note of it. It occurs to me, even if only a passing flight of fancy, to wonder what Aldous would think of my sudden interest in keeping track of historical events …._

_True to her word, Morrigan has led us through the Wilds to Lothering as promised. Her guidance was essential, as it turns out, but her stand-offish, haughty, superior attitude … well that may cause more contention than is actually necessary. It is clear that she and Alistair do not get along, and though she might argue the point, I believe it is more than the fact that he was almost a Templar and she is an apostate mage. But then, she calls him names and eggs him on as well, so perhaps she has some other issue of which I am unaware. There are personalities that do not get along well together. I have seen this in the past. I think, perhaps (I am still open to a different judgement if the facts should change) this may be one of those situations._

_I should say from the beginning: Flemeth was right. At least, in regards to Constant. Just shy of Lothering, my faithful mabari, one of the only links I have left to my husband, found and joined our party. Morrigan's reaction was priceless, and I had to laugh (if only to myself). The utter disdain she had at the thought of having a dog in our midst … well, I hope she is over exaggerating, though I am not certain that she is. But then, perhaps her attitude is covering something else? It is very much like her attitude towards Alistair. Is it fear? Discomfort? Something else I am unable to recognize at this point in time? I suppose as we travel all will become clear._

_It is difficult to put into words what we found as we arrived in Lothering. Simply aside from the bandits who tried to obtain a "toll" for use of the Imperial Highway (we dealt with them quickly and announced such to the Chantry in the town upon arrival), the town is overrun with refugees fleeing the area. Human, elf, Chasind … even a Qunari caged on the outer edges of town - there is a bit of everyone and everything imaginable to be found here. _

_Though I would be hard pressed to say that I have a love of the Chantry, I must admit that even they are finding it difficult to deal with the influx of desperate folk in need of assistance. We did what we could to assist. I nearly had to twist Morrigan's arm to engage her cooperation in making poultices for Elder Miriam, but finally she did so (with no small amount of grumbling). Alistair, Constant and I resorted to fulfilling requests from the Chantry board, mostly in the elimination of some additional bandit issues just outside of town. On our return, however, we found the remains of a child's mother. I nearly lost heart at that point. To think how easily that could be me someday, my son or daughter the one in town … alone, desperate for assistance. Alistair, Maker bless him, was quick to turn me away. He found an amulet on the woman that could be given to the child, a memory if nothing else, and he made note of the location to give to the Chantry officials so that her body might be recovered for a proper funeral pyre. I do not think, however, that I shall ever be able to put that particular incident from my mind …._

_The things we found ourselves doing (and there were plenty more to assist with) kept coming in one after another. We finally agreed to take a break, to find food and drink at the local tavern (called 'Dane's Refuge'). This turned out to make for a rather interesting afternoon all around. To begin with, Alistair and I were confronted by soldiers upon entry. After some discussion, we discovered that they had been left behind by Teyrn Loghain, to watch for any Grey Warden survivors. Their intent was … well, I'm not exactly certain if it was to capture or kill, but they accomplished neither. With the assistance of a local Chantry sister named Leliana (yes, a local Chantry sister, in gown and all but armed with blades) Loghain's lackeys were shown their proper place. I had thought to kill them all on the spot, knowing that Loghain was responsible for the deaths of King Cailan and Duncan and not ourselves, but Leliana suggested they might have a better purpose. We spoke for a moment and I finally agreed to use them as messengers, to inform Loghain that not only had Wardens survived but that they were aware of the Teyrn's treachery. What affect this will have on things I do not know, but I suspect we will need to be on our guard from here on out._

_After the completion of this confrontation, we took our meal at the tavern. I invited Leliana to join us, and found her to be quite pleasant, if not quite what I expected from a sister of the Chantry. I came to find that she had been sent a vision - yes, I had some doubts as to whether this was indeed true. Morrigan, of course, scoffed at such a notion. Alistair, well, even he seemed a bit skeptical. Myself, on the other hand …. I could not let such a judgement pass from my lips given the visions of my own husband that I had been having of late. I offered Leliana a space within our ranks, knowing that we would need what help we could find, and she accepted. Alistair did not seem reluctant in the least, though I could tell he still found her story to be a bit … odd. Morrigan. I simply gave her a look as if to say 'live with it.' Though she pursed her lips at me and frowned, the apostate said nothing against my decision - at least openly._

_Given that our new companion was from the area - sort of? That she is Orlesian is not in doubt as the lilt to her voice is obvious with each word she speaks. However, if I have figured things correctly from what both has and has not said, she has been a sister here for at least the past few years - I discussed the current situation with her regarding the state of things in Lothering. To say that it is 'bad' is an understatement the likes of which are incomprehensible, I fear. The Bann of Lothering, Coerlic I believe is his name, has abandoned them to their fate. If he is the man I recall, then I cannot say that I am surprised. He has left this place, and of those who remain, there are too many refugees, too few places to put them, too many who are ill or ailing in some way, too many who are afraid …. And so on. The discouraging and very sad thing is that in the Bann's place, there are many others who simply move in and try to take advantage. Had we the time to spend, I would encourage each and everyone of the people remaining to flee. After Ostagar, Alistair, Morrigan and I were perhaps the only ones who really knew what the people of this place were about to face. But our focus had to be elsewhere, or our cause and the country would be lost before we had even begun._

_It was during this discussion that I learned more regarding the Qunari who was penned on the outer edges of the town. The man apparently murdered the farmers and children who offered him assistance in cold blood. She even stated that he did not run, he offered no protest, he wished to pay for the crime he had committed. I pulled Alistair into this discussion, thinking perhaps we might be able to accomplish multiple goals with one action. With his agreement, we left (with Leliana to assist) to speak with the Revered Mother. After some discussion and even more persuasion, we were able to convince the woman to release the Qunari to the Wardens custody. _

_When we approached the Qunari in his cage, I alone spoke to him (by prior agreement), working my way through a round about discussion until I was, at long last, able to convince him that he would find what he sought (atonement) in joining our ranks and focusing his fight against the darkspawn whom we Wardens are obliged to defeat. He is strong and proud, though his views on the role of people in society differ quite a bit from most. _

_I am sitting here, in Dane's Refuge once more (apparently Alistair must have said something to Leliana about my 'condition,' or at least hinted strongly at it, as she is stubbornly trying to make me eat even though the thought of food at the moment turns my stomach), considering our next steps to take. We can go to Redcliffe and speak with Arl Eamon who, I have since learned, was a foster father of sorts to Alistair. This would be his preference, I think. We could begin the journey to approaching our allies: elves, dwarves and mages. I am leaning towards this option, if only to visit the Circle Tower, to see if Wynne survived. She told me to find her after the battle. Whether she meant that at the camp at Ostagar or at the Tower, I must find her to be certain she is safe and secondarily to see if she will continue to assist me as she once offered. But Redcliffe is closer. Arl Eamon always struck me as being a fairly reasonable man, the few times I met him. Perhaps Alistair is right. If we can conclude our discussions with him quickly, then perhaps we can get to the Tower within a few days, maybe even by boat? I recall a trip once in my youth when Father took us to Redcliffe, taking the boat from Lake Calenhad south … . I wonder if I would still be as seasick as I was then?_


	39. Hiding Out

_Thanks to those who continue to read, review and lurk as well as those who have set favs and alerts including: CheesyNeria, aria ravenwood, Ipana, amac1688, fangirl42, geekreader42, Frayed One, Ruvena Cousland Amell, Shadow Master Seek, Sorcha Cahill, I Hear The Acid's lovely, Lillie Cullen, gunner8202, Miltonia, naomi8329, Zeeji, Erynnar, RainDancer823, and Prose Princess. Your support, interest and reviews have helped me through a difficult period in RL and I do appreciate it!_

_Apologies for the delay - in amongst other things in RL, we had a BIG office move which did allow me to write up most of this chapter (and the couple following ones) by hand, but then kept me from typing it up right away. That plus other RL stuff and the fact that this chapter was a very difficult one for me to write - not in the sense that it was never done in the story (that has to stop me yet!) but in the sense of … the emotional toll it might take upon the characters. I hope I've managed to get that across in here._

_Thanks as always to my fabulous betas! __**Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin**__ - you ladies are indeed true friends and have helped me not only with this but with RL as well. Your support humbles me! You have my undying thanks, gratitude and love._

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …... (and yes, I realize I have made up quite a lot in this story!)..._

_**A/N:**__ And now to the fun part: Musical inspiration: I must admit, a friend over on Warden's Vigil got me hooked on a song … which led to finding the original artist … and then led to me purchasing and downloading the album (which I do NOT do!) So, for the remainder of the story it is safe to say I will be listening to the song "Rolling in the Deep" by Adele off her album __21__. This woman has such POWER in her voice! The entire album is fantastic! I am considering going after her first album as well. The version I first heard of the song was performed by Linkin Park, and was well done as well. I highly recommend the album and checking her out on youtube!_

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He didn't want to believe it, but he had no reason not to. Trinion had been nothing but up front and honest with him from the beginning. Rhyan had no reason to lie about such a thing. But the plain and simple fact was that Nathaniel could not believe his father would have been responsible for or allowed his men to do such a thing. That in itself, should have supported the truth of the answer.

"My lord?"

Nathaniel had been sitting on the edge of the bed hunched over, his elbows resting on his legs, his head fallen into his hands. "Yes?" he muttered roughly as he scrubbed his face with his hands and sat up once more. It was Grayson, quiet as ever, stepping beside him. "My cousin Galen, my lord. He has come to answer any questions you might have."

Nathaniel took a deep, shuddering breath, not particularly wanting to have this conversation but knowing that someone had to do it. If it was this bad for him to suffer through, he could only imagine what it must be like for the Highever men in his company who had lived here most if not all of their lives. Standing, Nathaniel turned to face the innkeeper. The first thing that he noticed was that neither man looked a bit like the other. Blinking past his immediate confusion, he could not help but ask, "Are you certain you two are related?"

The innkeeper chuckled wryly. "My lord, our fathers were twins. There is no doubt." Grayson and Galen exchanged a quick look. "We both took after our mothers' sides."

Nathaniel managed a small smile, though it did not reach his eyes and he saw that Galen noted this. _Grayson must have told him what this was about._ "I do have some questions … if you have time. I would not put you in danger if your absence will be noticed."

Galen shook his head. "I appreciate your forethought, my lord, but I am safe enough. The curfew will not set in for at least an hour. We have that much time at least." What he did not say was that after the curfew took effect and the townsfolk were in their homes the Howe soldiers would then descend upon the town.

Nathaniel nodded and walked over to stand near the window. It was darkening outside, but he stayed to the left of the window, even with curtains drawn, just to be safe. "I was told by my companions about the … display," the word came out almost as a snarl, "in front of the castle."

Galen nodded. "Yes, my lord," he replied in a quiet, respectful tone, "it is rather … reprehensible."

Nathaniel sighed. Bryce and Eleanor … Oriana …. He could understand to a point why Bryce, Eleanor would have been made examples of - it was simple battle tactics. To the victor go the spoils, and in this case, the clear denunciation and destruction of a family beloved by the townsfolk. How else would they keep them in line? But Oriana? She was an innocent, at least to Nathaniel's way of thinking. Why put her out there?

In the back of his mind, Nathaniel could hear the sneering voice of his father cursing and taunting him for being 'soft' and 'unworthy' to be counted among the Howe soldiers. It had been years since he had last had that happen and it caught him off guard. His already fierce scowl deepened as he shoved the memories away, forced himself to ignore the voice and began his questions again.

"What of the others? Little Oren? The staff? Bryallyn?" Nathaniel felt his throat close upon itself as he said his wife's name. He was nearly certain she had survived, though he could not put into words just how exactly he knew that. The others had chosen to follow him for the time being and he did not dare give them any sign that he was unfit to lead. To explain that he had been 'seeing' his wife in dreams?

Galen sighed. "Those bodies not put out on display were disposed of with the refuse behind the castle," he explained. "Oren Cousland was one of those in that group." When Nathaniel pinned the man with a sharp look, he added, "The father of one of our serving girls was forced to help dispose of the dead. He carried the boy's body himself. But of your wife, my lord, nothing is known. As far as we know, and by 'we' I mean those who were involved in the disposal process, she was not among the dead. There are rumors that she and her hound escaped with the Warden Commander who was in residence at the time of the attack."

_Warden Commander?_ Nathaniel thought back to the strategy session just after he and Bryallyn had returned to Highever. "I remember him," he finally returned. "Tall, dark, carried two blades."

Galen nodded. "That is the man, ser. But as I say, those are only rumors. There are other rumors too, just as equally likely, that say prisoners were taken away from the keep and sent to Amaranthine. Who exactly those prisoners were, we do not know. It is a possibility that your wife could have been among that group."

Nathaniel groaned and leaned back against the wall. _Vigil's Keep_. Nathaniel had no doubt that his father would take them there. He'd been into the dungeons once or twice while a child, stealthily following his father on one occasion, being given a tour of sorts by the man on another. The devices and methods his sire had shown him that time that were used for interrogation and torture (these were the visible ones. Nathaniel knew that there would be things his father would have kept hidden away if only to keep as a surprise for a later time) were enough to make Nathaniel's stomach lurch. The thought of _any_one having to suffer through that, let alone Bryallyn ….

Nathaniel ran a hand over his face again as he continued to process all that he had been told. Bodies left out as a warning to all of what could happen if they did not cooperate with the occupiers. Rumors of survivors. Rumors of prisoners. But how to tell the truth from the lies? He understood all too well that every rumor began with a kernel of truth.

"Galen?" Nathaniel lowered his hand, a sudden path opening before him. If he could not separate the rumors, he would not know where to focus next. "What do you know about what happened that night? Were you there? Was anyone who works here there that night?" _I need to know what happened …._

"I was not myself," the innkeeper responded, "but Neesie, she was there. She worked in the kitchens up at the castle and arrived for the early morning shift when things started to come apart." Galen turned towards his cousin and murmured a few words before turning back to face Nathaniel. At the same time, Grayson quietly exited the room. "My lord … are you certain you want to hear about that night?" the man hedged.

Nathaniel sighed. He saw Rhyan and Trinion both turn towards him, the looks on their faces asking the same thing. "I am certain," he returned.

Several minutes later, the door opened and two figures walked in. Grayson must have spoken to the girl before returning, Nathaniel thought, for though there was some trepidation in her eyes, there was no fear. Stepping forward, Nathaniel gestured towards the edge of the bed. "Neesie, isn't it?" he asked. When the girl nodded, Nathaniel turned towards the others. "Can you give us some time please?" He didn't think he could do this with everyone else standing around listening.

The others left the room - Highever men electing to go to one of the other rooms that Galen had made available, Rhyan and her Free Marcher companions deciding to chance a visit to the common room first. Closing the door behind them, Nathaniel turned back. "Do you recognize me, Neesie?" he asked as he stepped forward.

The girl nodded. "Aye, m'lord," she replied. "I saw you about on occasion."

Taking a seat and turning to face her, Nathaniel forced himself to remain calm. "Neesie, I need to know what happened that night."

The girl, who couldn't have been a day over eighteen he thought, began to fidget as she sat. "I came in early," she said in a voice that was barely above a whisper and was tinged with fear. "There was extra men, right? And I baked the bread each day, and the Teyrna, she -"

Nathaniel allowed her the time to collect herself. "So you came in early to make extra bread?"

Neesie nodded. "Nan, she sent me to fetch more flour from the larder. I was bringing it back when I heard shouting. Nan was angry about something, or so I thought. That wasn't new or unusual. Then I heard louder yells, men's voices … ones I didn't recognize. I-I stayed in the larder, ser," she sobbed while covering her face. "I - I hid while they … they killed Nan …."

Nathaniel nodded. Anyone who had been up and around the castle that night would have become a target. "Neesie," he said quietly in an attempt to reassure the girl, "you did right by hiding. You obviously survived. And," he added sincerely, "in surviving you have managed to tell your story."

Neesie nodded, a hand lifting to swipe tears away. "I - I suppose," she whispered.

Nathaniel waited a moment and then asked, "Can you tell me anything more? How did you escape? Were there others who fled with you?"

"I-I stayed in the larder," she whispered. "I don't know how long I hid until … until … I heard voices again." She began sobbing again and Nathaniel wondered if they would ever get through the telling. "It … m'lord, it was the Teyrn and another man, one of his guests. Tall, dark …."

The words ignited a surge of hope that rushed through Nathaniel. "The Warden Commander?" he asked. "Duncan?"

"Aye," Neesie returned with a nod. "He was helping the Teyrn. The Teyrn was …." Neesie shook her head sadly. "He was bleeding badly." She pointed to her side, just below her ribs. "He was bad off, m'lord."

Nathaniel groaned. An injury there, without the aid of a healer would be deadly. "What happened then?"

Neesie bit her lip. "The Teyrn … he begged the Commander to find his family … to save them. I - I showed myself then, offered to stay with the Teyrn. The Commander agreed and moved the Teyrn into the larder, told me to keep him in there so we wouldn't be found. He said he would be back …."

Nathaniel rose from the bed and walked over to the window. It was dark out now, the room was dim as well, so he chanced a peek through the curtains. In the distance, he could see Castle Cousland. "Did he return?" he finally asked, his eyes glued to the banner waving in the breeze on the top of the battlements. It would be the bear of Amaranthine, he knew, and he could feel the anger in him growing, solidifying into a heavy resolve. No matter what else happened, he was going to see that his father paid for his crimes.

Neesie turned to follow his progression across the room, it seemed, because he could still hear her voice clearly as she spoke. "I don't know, m'lord. After the Commander left, I tried to help the Teyrn, but he … he … he ordered me to leave, to take the servant's exit and flee." There was a pause and Nathaniel could hear the girl crying softly. "What else could I do?"

Nathaniel pushed away from the window and turned to face her. "You do not know then if the Warden Commander was successful?"

Neesie shook her head. "No, m'lord, I don't. I'm sorry."

Nathaniel shook his head. "Do not be," he told her firmly while battling his own disappointment. "You did as your Teryn instructed, that was as it should be." Nathaniel found himself thinking back on the short time that he had really known his father-in-law. One thing that would forever stay with him, however, was the sense of fairness that the man had shown to any and all he had come into contact with, whether they be king, noble or common-born. It was something Nathaniel had seen personally and was a trait he had witnessed in _all_ of the Couslands.

Crossing the room to stand before the girl he told her, "I do appreciate your willingness to talk with me, Neesie. Thank you."

Neesie rose then and nodded, understanding that she was being dismissed. "Good night, m'lord," she whispered before exiting the room.

Nathaniel was seated on the bed a short time later, his back against the wall, one leg drawn up with his arm looped around it, his steely blue gaze staring off into the darkness when Trinion and Rhyan entered the room. Trinion approached quietly, taking a nearby chair Rhyan carried over a bowl of stew she had brought up for Nathaniel. "Eat," she told him firmly as she handed it over.

Nathaniel turned his eyes to stare at her a long moment before shifting them towards Trinion. "Is there any sort of justice to be found for them?" he asked. "I have no doubts that my father should pay for his crimes, but killing him outright would do nothing but give him and easy way out, and punishing him any other way does not begin to come close to atoning for all the wrong he has done."

Trinion leaned forward, his arms resting atop his legs. "My lord, I am prepared to leave the final decision to you for several reasons. First, my Lord Cousland trusted you, plain and simple. Though he was an amiable man, he did not give his trust easily. But I know for a fact that he trusted you implicitly."

Nathaniel's brow lifted at that.

"Second, I have been with you since the beginning of this. I have seen you both as prey and hunter. I trust your judgement." Trinion shook his head slightly and concluded, "And third, … Bryallyn. My lady trusts you unequivocally. She is an excellent judge of character as I have seen first hand on many occasions since I met her."

Nathaniel glanced over at Rhyan who was seated on the edge of the bed. Reaching out, he took the bowl of stew from her. Before taking a bite, however, he tossed back at Trinion, "So you want me to be the one to decide?"

Trinion chuckled and tilted his head to face Nathaniel. "I believe the ultimate decision should be yours, yes," he agreed. When he saw that Nathaniel was about to protest, he lifted his hand and continued, "But we have time between now and then, and I am willing to listen and discuss if you feel it necessary."

Nathaniel smirked. "To be my conscience, you mean?"

"Perhaps," came the reply, "though I am beginning to come to a better understanding of how you think. I have no doubts in my mind that you will make the right decision."

Nathaniel fell silent and turned his thoughts inward as he ate. So many things to consider in order to make one important decision. But Trinion was right, he had the time to weigh his options and think it through. The most important thing would be to make the _right_ decision ….


	40. Lothering Journal Back Page

_I always figure at least two chapters for Lothering because, in all honesty, no matter how you write it you need at least that much space if not more, right? As with Bryallyn, I am setting this chapter in a journal format - but from Alistair's pov. _

_Thanks as always to those who have read, reviewed and lurked as well as those setting favs and alerts including: Erynnar, horselover90, RainDancer823, Grey Jackett, Lillie Cullen, Prose Princess and Miltonia._

_Huge hugs and thanks to my wonderful betas without whom I'd be so lost! __**VioletTheirin, MireliAmbar**__ and __**Erynnar**__ - you ladies are the best!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N:**__ Musical inspiration: "Rumor Has It" by Adele just because of the two gossips outside of Dane's Refuge; "Highway to Hell" by AC/DC because we all know what happens from here on out; and "Stayin' Alive" by the Bee Gees well, just because. Enjoy!_

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_**Firstfall 9:30**_

_**Lothering**_

_I once heard Lothering described as "pretty as a painting." That obviously was before the darkspawn began massing and refugees piling into the town in an effort to escape them. There were so many here when we arrived, I began to think we might just get through the town unnoticed._

_I was mistaken._

_The most obvious hint of trouble came at the tavern - a place called "Dane's Refuge" which really should have warned us, I suppose - when some of Loghain's men attacked us. They were no match for us, really, though whether that says more about our skills as Grey Wardens or their lack of skills as the Teyrn's men I am not quite certain. What I __do__ know is that Wardens are now considered outlaws simply because Loghain has managed to convince everyone that we were responsible for killing the king. What Duncan would have thought of this, I do not know. On the other hand, had Duncan survived, I doubt that we would be in this current situation. _

_Duncan. The man was like a father to me. Certainly more so than my own father was. It astounds me, though, that he did not see this coming. He was the Warden Commander! He is supposed to see these things, isn't he? And arguments that "Wardens do not get involved in politics" be damned. He was certain this was a Blight. I'm new enough as a Warden myself that I am not certain by what means he knows all of this, but he did warn me, and there are those dreams (nightmares!) of the archdemon …._

_Perhaps Duncan did not see the treachery afoot because he was so concerned about the lack of Wardens in Ferelden? "We need to stop the Blight here," he told me before he left for Highever. I asked if we could not call for reinforcements, Wardens from Orlais perhaps? _

_Loghain argued against this. I was in one of those meetings once, apart from the others. Bernardo took me with him. I still can't decide if Loghain's arguments were based more on past history and the fact that the Orlesians used to be occupiers, or that he had planned this all along, thinking he could govern better than Cailan._

[[There are a couple of handwritten lines here that are neatly scratched out between paragraphs]]

_Or … maybe Duncan did see what was happening … or at least suspected that Teyrn Loghain could not be trusted. Or could Cailan have seen it? What I mean is … Duncan refused to allow us into the main fighting at Ostagar. Had we done so, we would surely have died along with the others … and the Warden presence in Ferelden would be no longer. I suspect Cailan's concern was (dare I say it?) for the throne? (this thought perhaps frightens me more than any darkspawn horde or confrontation with Loghain) Or, like on so many other occasions, was he simply following Duncan's suggestions? I guess we'll never know. But Duncan … he was focused on the survival of the Order. Could he have planted the idea of sending Bryallyn and myself to Ishal because he __knew__ Loghain would betray Cailan and retreat? If that was the case, why would Duncan not have stopped it from happening?_

_At any rate, there is no point in dwelling on it. What's done is done, and . I do know I will never forgive the Teryn for the death of Duncan, though. And by declaring myself and Bryallyn to be outlaws he leaves us no choice but to call him out publicly to defeat him._

_Bryallyn Cousland-Howe. _

_Now there is an interesting woman. Quiet, thoughtful, and yet one used to assuming command. I am almost ashamed that I allowed her to do so, but it happened so quickly and naturally that it was over before I could protest … assuming I wanted to protest - which I didn't. She makes it look so easy, too. Effortless. Is that me taking advantage of the situation? Possibly. But then, I know what will happen should I try to lead … and I have enough issues with Morrigan at the moment, I really don't want to add to the list._

_I have paused to look back at what I have written to this point and realize I have diverted from my main purpose._

_Lothering. I must make mention of seeing Ser Donal, one of Arl Eamon's men, and one of the few who actually remembers me and whom I feel comfortable calling 'friend.' Unfortunately, the news he shared was grave and gives me cause to worry. Arl Eamon has taken gravely ill, it seems. Ill enough that all of the knights of Redcliffe (must be Lady Isolde's idea for certainly there must still be knights present to protect the village and the keep, right?) are out on a quest: to find the ashes of Andraste in order to heal the Arl where healing and magic have failed. _

_Now, don't misunderstand me. I am a believer (in my own way, of course, but a believer nonetheless) … but Andraste's Ashes? That seems a bit far fetched. A mythological story used to help support …. Well, never mind. I don't need to be going off on any more tangents. I do think, however, it sounds more like someone wanted the knights away from the castle for some reason. But why? I think as soon as I finish here I shall speak with Bry to see if we could go to Redcliffe first. Just to make certain some sort of politically sponsored plot isn't afoot …._

_As we departed Lothering today, two separate incidents occurred which gave us all (including our two newest companions) cause for worry. The first happened as we were barely beyond the boundaries of the town. We were confronted by a group of … well, I suppose technically the term to use would be 'bounty hunters,' though in actuality they were simply men - refugees by looks of most of them - desperate to find ways to feed their families. They had overheard Loghain's men announcing a price upon our heads. Given their circumstances, I could not blame them, and I know that I saw regret in Bry's eyes. But what else could we do? We had to defend ourselves._

_The second incident in many ways was even more interesting. We were entering the Imperial Highway on the other side of Lothering when we came upon a couple of dwarves under attack by darkspawn. To begin with, it worries me greatly that darkspawn already can be found this close to Lothering. If small bands are already reaching the town, the main body cannot be far behind. I pray the people there leave quickly._

_There were only a few darkspawn and given the increase in size of our party, it did not overwhelm us in any way. But the dwarves - surface merchants originally from Orzammar it seems - appreciated our timely assistance. They thanked us profusely before going along their way. However, no sooner had we all made camp for the night than the two ambled up, cart and all, and joined us. In return for staying in the relative safety of our camp, they will give us a discount on their merchandise, they say. I don't know how frequent their visits will be, but I suspect that they will come in handy, offering us as much assistance if not more than we offered them. As a matter of fact, I should go and speak with them now. I thought I saw a wheel of Ferelden cheddar in that cart …._


	41. Interview With A Crow

_Thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked as well as those setting alerts and favs including: JaenelleSen, Draksja, Barkspawn, ProsePrincess, kasoogi, naomi8329, Lillie Cullen, CheesyNeria, Melorna and Erynnar._

_Thank you as always to my wonderfully talented betas: __**MireliAmbar, VioletTheirin**__ and __**Erynnar.**__ You three are my saving grace!_

_As always, Bioware owns all but what I made up __**…**__..._

_**A/N:**__ Musical Inspiration: Hmm, let me see __**…**__ I really don't have anything particular to this chapter - Rendon being the ass that he is, I don't really require inspiration! On the other hand, I do use a little bit of music to help get Zevran going in my head. This time I used "La Vida Loca" by Ricky Martin (yes, I went there! :P ) mostly. Surprisingly, it helped. I shall have to find some more songs for inspiration for him further into the story. Feel free to leave me suggestions if you have any! (Zevran is hard for me to capture sometimes!)_

_*** Have a healthy supply of brain bleach on hand for the end of this chapter - you will need it I'm afraid! ***_

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With each passing day, since the man's return from the mess that had been Ostagar, he had been observing the Regent becoming more surly, scowling at anyone and everything who moved around him, even beginning to lose his temper with whomever happened to be near.

He'd begun respectably enough: authoritative with the gathered nobles, explaining what needed to be done and brooking no opposition, not even from the most outspoken of the bunch, Bann Teagan Guerrin. Rendon could admire that. The way the man kept his daughter in line, a woman whose personality was much like her sire's, was commendable and Rendon actually found that he was learning a few things that he could take with him back to Amaranthine to use in keeping Delilah in line.

Later, when approached with concerns regarding the reactions of certain of the Banns and Arls, again most notably Teagan Guerrin, Loghain Mac Tir had told him flat out not to worry, that the Bann of Rainesfere would soon have more important things to worry about. He did not dare question the Regent as to what he had meant by this (if he had wanted it known, he would have said something explicit). That had earned him a promotion of rank, so to speak. No longer was he simply Arl of Amaranthine, but Arl of Denerim as well. This gave him the ear of the Regent, someone to whom he could feed his pieces and parts, the threads of plots and plans being woven together in such a way that no one would realize that he was behind it all until it was too late.

And then came word that Wardens had survived Ostagar. Two that were known of, according to the messenger who had returned from Lothering. A man and a woman, both fearsome fighters. The Regent's eyes had darkened with the news, his snarl becoming a barking growl. That was when a spark of an idea began in the back of his mind. _Take the initiative, relieve the man of his worries. It will earn you more respect, further advancement._

It took only a matter of hours for the basics of the plot to develop in his head. No, the real length of time had been in making the initial contact. When finally he discovered with whom he should speak, Rendon had made the journey to the Gnawed Noble, made his request and paid the fee. Within another fortnight he would be contacted by a member of the organization, he was promised.

The contact came and was the reason for his presence at _The King's Crown_ this evening. An establishment of middling reputation and even less influence despite it's royal sounding name, it was the perfect place for such a meeting. He arrived early and was shown to the private room that had been arranged. He poured himself a measure of drink (the nice thing about the private rooms was that they had a better selection from which to choose) and then he settled in to wait.

His contact arrived early, apparently of a similar mind. Rendon had half hidden himself in the shadows (not a skill for which he was well known) and did not realize until a quiet voice with the silken lilt of Antiva murmured, "The target you have in mind is more of a challenge for one of my skill, si?" Otherwise, my dear Arl, I should think your coin could be spent more effectively."

Rendon would not openly admit to being caught off guard. "Trust me, my friend," subtly reminding the man of the status of their relationship, "your targets will be enough of a challenge for you."

The man's chuckle exuded self-assurance. "That is good," he returned as he stepped out of the shadows and into the light. Giving Rendon a slight bow, the blond elf (for he suddenly recognized the man's pointed ears) announced, "Zevran Arainai, Crow assassin, at your service." Zevran reached for a pouch at his belt and soon produced two folded pieces of parchment. "Copies of the contract," he explained, "as negotiated with Master Ignacio. All that is required is your signature."

Rendon took the two documents and read through them quickly. Nodding slightly, he crossed the room to the writing desk and retrieved ink, quill and sealing wax. Within moments, both documents were official.

Zevran retrieved only one of the two documents, folding it and replacing it in its pouch. "Now then," he murmured as he poured himself a drink, "what more can you tell me about these _…_ Wardens, hmm?"

Rendon's smile was nothing short of evil. "There are two: a woman and a man. They are currently traveling in company of a mabari and another woman," he explained. "The latest intelligence suggests that there is the potential for one other woman to be with them, a Chantry sister."

Rendon swirled the drink in his glass for a moment watching as the amber liquid spiraled into a vortex. "The sister has bright red hair and uses two daggers with which to fight." He lifted his gaze to look upon his companion.

Zevran chuckled. "A sister who fights back? Intriguing. Tell me more."

Rendon began wandering over towards the window, peering out through a slit in the curtains. "Both of the other women have dark hair. One uses blades, the other we believe to be an apostate witch." As he stared out into the darkness, he found himself wondering at the truth to these statements. They were relying upon information from men who had been bested, who had chosen to flee rather than face their death. Their lives had been spared so that the message would get to the capital. But could the information be trusted?

"And the fourth?"

Rendon snorted. From the description he had overheard, he had no doubts about the man's identity. But _…_ what to reveal. "He is blond. Tall, uses a sword and shield." Rendon gave the assassin a considering look. "If he is who I have been led to believe he is, he is a warrior of considerable skill."

Another chuckle. "My dear Arl," the elf murmured, "are you not familiar with the capabilities and methods of the Crows?"

Rendon snorted. "By reputation, of course, or I would not have sought you out."

A smile spread across the elf's face then. "Then trust me, my friend. I am more than up to the challenge."

Rendon turned from the window and stared at the elf for a long moment then, taking his measure. There was no doubt that the man was confident. The Crows had a reputation to uphold, an international reputation. He did not doubt that the man had skills either. And, if rumor had it right, he had all the charm and charisma to go with it, enough to get him through any situation that might arise.

Crossing the room to the table, Rendon set his drink down and turned towards the elf one last time. "Tomorrow, mid-morning. Be up at the palace. We will present the plan to the Regent then. It is only with [i]his[/i] approval that this moves forward, understood?"

Zevran nodded once, a half smirk forming on his lips. "And if the approval is not given?"

Rendon felt a slow smile move across his face then. "Oh, he will," he murmured in return. "I have no doubts on that. But this must look as if it comes from him."

Again Zevran nodded. "Understood. I shall see you then, my lord," he murmured before turning to exit the room.

In the half moment between looking at the table where he was setting his glass and lifting his head to stare at the closed door, he noted that the elf had disappeared. The Arl decided not to question it and simply tossed back the remaining liquid in his glass before he, too, left the room. He still had work to do.


	42. On the Run

_Thanks to all who have stuck by me! This year has been one filled with numerous challenges in real life and it has obviously affected my muse who seems to come and go in fits and starts. I have had some nigglings of late, and I hope that is a good sign! :) So thank you to those of you who continue to read, who recently have found this story and everyone in between including: roelka, Pennelore, Wizardshirosenshi, RavennaL, Barkspawn, Kenshiro2008, ArtemisSoh, RainDancer823, ProsePrincess, Lillie Cullen, Naomi8329, Miltonia and Erynnar._

_Thank you as always to my wonderously wonderful betas: __**MireliAmbar, Erynnar, Liso1966, StellaSmooth **__and__** VioletTheirin**__._

_It occurs to me as I prepare this chapter that I began posting this story almost a year ago. At that time I had the prologue and about twenty-five chapters written. We are now almost double that, and I certainly intend for it to go much, much further! Thanks again for sticking around for the ride!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N: Inspirational Music**__: Yet another chapter that I wrote most of while at work, so I have no specific pieces to associate with this chapter (which may be why it was so difficult to bring forth?). However, not to be left without something to listen to, I would humbly suggest the following: Adele "Set Fire To The Rain," Bon Jovi, "It's My Life," Loreena McKinnett, "Bonny Swan," and Nightwish, "Wish I Had an Angel" and "Bye Bye Beautiful," this last being the song that inspired me to begin writing this story in the first place. When in doubt, go back to the beginning, right? Enjoy!_

* * *

Nathaniel was pulled from a sound sleep by the feel of a soft hand sliding over his mouth and a firm grasping pressure at his shoulder. His eyes snapped open instantly, his body jerking awake, to find Rhyan kneeling beside the bed. "Get dressed quickly," she breathed in a quiet whisper near his ear before she rolled back onto her heels and rose to her feet. "We have to leave now."

Nathaniel reacted without thinking. He was out of the bed quickly, donning his armor as quietly as he was able, his hands all too familiar with the buckles. Arming himself next, he shouldered the rest of his gear and followed after Rhyan within a matter of moments. From the years they had spent training together it did not occur to him to hesitate. He knew she would not approach him in such a manner if it was not necessary. As she led him quietly down the back steps of the inn, he did not speak nor question her. His trust was absolute.

They were met at the foot of the staircase by Grayson who motioned for them to move towards the door. Within minutes the three were slipping through the side alleys of Highever in the dim lighting of early morning; around corners, down alley ways, behind homes or businesses they moved, always silent.

After what seemed an eternity, they finally arrived at a run down, ramshackle of a building that was, as far as Nathaniel could tell, on the far side of the town and directly overlooking the cliffs. Grayson led the way, then Rhyan and finally Nathaniel who secured the door behind him. Instinct had him reaching for a broom he found nearby and wedging it in such a manner as to make whoever might follow them have a more difficult time of it trying to enter.

Nathaniel paid no heed to the dimly lit surroundings as he followed after Grayson and Rhyan moments later. He found them before yet another secret entrance to the tunnels below, or so he assumed. Grayson handed Nathaniel a torch and indicated he should enter first. Nathaniel did so, quickly, leading the way down before turning back to assist Rhyan and then Grayson who brought up the rear and secured the portal. "The others?" he ventured quietly once the barricade was sealed behind them.

"They must leave town as they entered, my lord. Keep suspicion to a minimum."

Nathaniel nodded, though he did chance a sideways glance towards Rhyan, wondering why she was not with the others. Grayson moved to the front then, no further comment or question, and began leading the way through the twining maze of tunnels that at first seemed to lead back in towards town … or at least as far as Nathaniel could surmise it did. Trying to determine direction while surrounded by walls of stone was difficult to say the least. Once or twice, Nathaniel thought he might vaguely recognize a juncture of paths, an indent in the stone surface of the walls or the particular narrowing of a tunnel reminding him of his previous trip into Highever, but in the end he knew that he had to be imagining it. However, he did come to the conclusion during this time that, should they ever free Highever from its occupiers and he make a return, he would insist upon the others teaching him these paths. This was something that needed to be kept alive for the people who lived here.

The journey was conducted in silence. When at last they exited the tunnels, Nathaniel found that they were in a different location than when he and Grayson had entered two days previous. _Had it only been two days?_ This gateway was further eastwards down the beach, closer towards the area where he and Bryallyn had snuck off to before his departure to the Free Marches years before. Frowning, Nathaniel remained in the shadows as he waited on Grayson to seal the entrance.

"This way, my lord," the voice finally bade him.

They were headed in the opposite direction from whence they had come. Nathaniel paused. "Why this way?" he asked. He did not want to start doubting the man, he had no real reason to as of yet, other than the mystery surrounding their departure, yet instinct had him asking the question.

"We will meet the others outside of Highever on the eastern side, my lord. Well away from town."

"But surely the Arl's men patrol that area more thickly than they do to the west?" It made a kind of sense, with the area to the east situated between Highever and Amaranthine.

Grayson paused a moment longer to explain. "My lord, your father's men have tight rein on most lands north of the Imperial Highway. East or west, we face the same danger. If we go to the east, however, there is a route we can take south through the mountains into the Bannorn. This route is known only to a select few."

Nathaniel's brow lifted and he chanced a glance at Rhyan. She seemed interested by this as well. "And you happen to be one of those few?" he challenged.

Grayson actually chuckled and allowed his amusement to show for a moment. "No, my lord. However, Trinion does."

To say that he was startled would have been an understatement, though Nathaniel could give no exact reasoning as to why. Keeping his reaction to himself, he nodded at Grayson to take the lead since he apparently knew the direction they were headed. In this situation, he was a follower, not the leader.

The journey took them some time, however. With emphasis on remaining silent, it was inevitable that travel time was sacrificed. They were still close enough to Highever itself to be concerned about Howe patrols out and about, though Nathaniel soon came to realize that his father's men had either fallen down on the job or simply had not considered the beach an area worthy of concern as he, Grayson and Rhyan encountered nothing and no one out of the ordinary along the way. Nathaniel himself, felt a bit conflicted about this. On the one hand, he knew that his father would be irate should he discover such a breach in the security coverage of Highever. But then again, Nathaniel considered himself to be a part of the opposition now and found that this lack of interest by the Amaranthine soldiers was fortune in their favor. _Best not to look a gift horse in the mouth,_ Adria had once told him. Never had that statement made more sense to him than at this moment in time.

Still and all, upon their arrival at the rendez-vous point, the threesome found themselves to be the first to arrive. Once this realization was made, they found a somewhat hidden spot where they could remain more or less out of sight until the others arrived. And arrive they did, in fits and starts, until all of their party was accounted for. Trinion was one of the last to arrive as the sun continued to steadily rise, but when he did, he found Nathaniel and pulled him aside. "Normally, I would suggest waiting until sunset or until night has fallen to move, but Galen seemed sure of his source." Trinion gave Nathaniel a hard look. "We must move now. Someone alerted the men at the castle that some of Highever's men had returned."

Nathaniel's look darkened. He wanted to ask who - who would dare do such a thing? Who would betray the Teyrn and Teyrna in such a manner? - but he knew that it would be pointless since there was nothing they could do about it now. It would be up to the citizens of Highever to take care of the situation from that end of things. For now, they had to keep moving. "Grayson says you have a path for us to follow?" he queried quickly.

Trinion nodded and explained, "Through the mountains, my lord. There are a series of tunnels beneath; underground passages, leading from one side to another. These passages are known to none except those who are familiar with the area."

"And you are?" Rhyan's voice piped up as she joined them then.

Trinion looked over at her for a long moment before nodding. "My family is from the area. As a boy, I grew up learning my way in and out and through the passages. It is how we were able to get from our village to the Imperial Highway." He turned to look at Nathaniel again. "We should discuss where to go next," he added, "but not just yet. Right now, we must get away from here."

Nathaniel nodded. He already had a firm idea of where he wanted to go next anyway. First things first. "Lead on, then," he told Trinion. "We will follow."

The journey took them south and east of Highever, through the mountainous region of the north Coast-lands. Late on the second day, Trinion was leading them beneath the rocky peaks and into the series of tunnels that, he told them, would end up on the other side near the Imperial Highway. As they traveled, Nathaniel stayed near Trinion who, while not telling him in exact detail where they were or the route they were taking, at least explained a bit more regarding the need for secrecy for the place.

"Many of these tunnels are abandoned mining paths," Trinion explained. "Over the years, the people of my village and a few neighboring ones expanded on some of them, connecting them together so that, particularly in times of bad weather or other difficulty, we would still be connected. In more recent times, their need has fallen to the wayside, but I am thankful today that I was taught them."

Nathaniel nodded in the dim light from the torch, but said nothing for a moment. There was something in the back of his mind … some story his grandfather had once told him …. "Isn't there an old Grey Warden fortress or something near here?" he finally asked, tilting his head to glance at his companion. "I remember bits and pieces of a story my grandfather once told … something about the ... Drydens, wasn't it?"

Trinion chuckled. "Yes, my lord, something like that. While I do not know the details myself," Trinion only smiled at Nathaniel's look of disbelief, "I do know that the Peak is in this general area. Where exactly has been a closely guarded secret for generations. I am not one of the privileged."

They continued on, the journey through the tunnels taking them about three days in and of itself, until finally Trinion announced that they had reached the far side and led them above ground into the fresh air. As they exited, Nathaniel looked around, not so much to take note of the location (as expert a tracker as he was, he realized that even if he found his way into the tunnels by himself at some later date, he would not be able to make it to the other side without guidance) as to note the conditions. The sky was overcast and a dreary mist seemed to have blanketed the land. It was difficult to tell the time of day, given the current weather conditions, but Nathaniel estimated it to be near sunset. "We need to find a place to make camp," he told Trinion.

His companion agreed. "This way, my lord. There is a sheltered area I've used many a time in my youth not too far away. Then we should discuss where to go next."

The location Trinion had in mind was only a couple of hours away and upon arrival, the camp was quickly established. Given the size of their party, this process took less time than if it had been a smaller group. After the needs of the group had been met - food, drink, rest - it was time for discussion of their next move. Rhyan, Trinion and Nathaniel sat near the fire while Grayson and one other, stood watch on the perimeter, while the others settled down to rest until their appointed watch times. The mist had evolved into a steady drizzle by this point, but that was nothing new to those who had grown up in Ferelden, though Nathaniel and Trinion did exchange a quick look of silent amusement at some of the mutterings Rhyan made about the dampness.

"Right then," Nathaniel began once they were settled. "My thought is this: The best information we have indicates that Bryallyn might have escaped with the Warden Commander and gone south, to Ostagar." He took a deep breath and glanced at them for a long moment. "As I have no idea of my father's current whereabouts - he was supposedly heading to Ostagar as well, remember - I would suggest that we head there ourselves. Fergus Cousland and the majority of troops from Highever, were supposed to be there, as well as the king, This would be the logical destination, if only so that we can report what has happened to King Cailan himself. We also _must_ find out if any of the Couslands yet live." Nathaniel sighed heavily then, running a hand over his face for a moment.

The silence lasted for a few moments, until Trinion spoke up next. "By which route do you intend to travel?" he queried. When he noted Nathaniel's frown of confusion, he clarified, "Highever troops would have traveled down the west side of Lake Calenhad to get to Ostagar. That is a journey of some weeks, it would take us at least a week or so to simply get to the north end as a starting point. Is this the route you wish to take? We could also travel down the eastern side of the lake, which might not be a bad idea as we can stop at a place I know to restock our supplies. Or, for a third option, we could take the most direct route and travel straight down the center of the Bannorn."

Nathaniel nodded once he realized what Trinion was asking. "I have no idea if the battle at Ostagar has been waged yet," he told them, though he knew if the shared visions he'd had with his wife were any indication, the battle had been lost some weeks before. "Nor do I know the outcome. What I do know is this: we must get there and soon." Another pause. A moment for silent debate. "We will travel the eastern side of the lake," he decided at last. "We should stock up on supplies if and when we can as we have no idea when we will find such opportunity again. If the battle has been met, is over and the troops are returning," he shared a look with Trinion at the thought of what those troops would be walking into, "I'm afraid the Highever contingent will have to figure out the situation on their own."

"And if your wife and Fergus is with them?"

Rhyan's question caused Nathaniel to pause momentarily. "It is a chance we must take," he decided. "Hopefully, by traveling the closer path we will be able to get to Ostagar and find them in time. If not, we find the king and report all that has happened to him and then decide the next phase of the plan."

Nathaniel rose to his feet then, turning to look out towards the south. _Bryallyn,_ he called silently, _are you down there? Are you safe? I thought you surely dead, but … rumors and dreams give me hope. Is this a fool's errand? Am I so determined to find you alive that I am forsaking better alternatives?_

A hand at his shoulder pulled Nathaniel back to the present and he turned to find Rhyan there, alone. "You should get some rest, Nate," she told him.

Nathaniel shook his head. "I can't," he returned. "Not yet, at any rate. My head is …," he moved a hand in front of his face in a circular fashion, "I have too much on my mind," he concluded with the hope that she would understand.

Rhyan appeared to, for she released him and nodded. "Then take first watch. Wake me when it is my turn." She turned to leave, pausing as she glanced back over her shoulder and added, "And I do mean wake me. You must get some rest if you are to continue leading us."

Nathaniel nodded and gave her a half-hearted smile. "I will try," he offered, which was all that he could do. He would not make a promise that he could not keep.


	43. The Road to Redcliffe

_For anyone old enough to get the reference, the title was inspired by movies I used to watch with my grandfather when I was young that starred Bing Crosby and Bob Hope. 'The Road to Morocco' was a particular favorite!_

_Thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as set favs and alerts including: Erynnar, Lillie Cullen, NorthernBreeze, Kyria Nyriese and ProsePrincess. I'm so glad you all are enjoying!_

_Thanks to my team of fabulously patient, understanding and VOCAL betas! I love you ladies and appreciate the support like you would not believe! __**StellaSmooth, Liso1966, MireliAmbar, VioletTheirin**__ and __**Erynnar.**__ If you have not checked out their own works, I highly urge you to do so! All five of them are awesome authors in their own right!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N:**__ Musical Inspiration: Well, given the muse issues of late, I bombarded myself with Adele songs: "Rolling in the Deep," "Set Fire to the Rain," and "Rumor Has It," to name just a few off the top of my head. Additional inspiration came in the car while listening to songs on my MP3 player: "Don't Stop Believing," by Journey, "Eagleheart," by Stratovarius, "Livin' La Vida Loca," by Ricky Martin and "Nemo," by Nightwish._

* * *

"How many days from Redcliffe are we, do you think?" Bryallyn asked as she sat near the fire drinking a cup of tea and wishing the weather would change for the better, … or at least 'warmer.' It wouldn't, she knew that. At least, not for a long while. As far south towards the Uncharted Territories as they were, it would not warm up to anything remotely or reasonably close to 'warm' for months. As a matter of fact, Bryallyn recalled, the seasons were actually on their way towards winter. That thought had her shuddering just a bit. The realization that colder weather would soon be on it's way was not appealing … particularly given what she and the others needed to accomplish in the upcoming months. A sigh and a sip later, she pushed away the grumbling thoughts that wanted to make themselves present and focused her attentions on to her companion instead.

Alistair was seated nearby, slowly and methodically working on his armor. Lothering and the events there were two days behind them now. After all that had happened, Bryallyn found her thoughts drifting to the men who had attacked them in the tavern. She had let them go, to 'deliver a message' to Loghain and she wondered if they would and if so, when he would receive that message. For his part, Alistair paused in his work, tilting his head to the side for a moment and pondered her question. "No more than two days, I should think," he replied as he reached for another piece of armor. "Possibly less than that as we're making pretty good time."

"Hmmm," was Bry's neutral response as she sat back to think some more. She had her journal spread out across her lap and a pencil in hand that she was using to tap against her lips at the moment.

"Is that a problem?"

Alistair's question pulled Bryallyn back from thoughts that had been meandering aimlessly. For whatever reason, she was having trouble focusing this evening. "Oh! No, not at all. I'm sorry." She saw her fellow Warden offer her a smile of understanding and she couldn't help but return it. "But … I am curious," she continued then. "You were so adamant about heading to Redcliffe first, about enlisting Arl Eamon's assistance. I mean, I understand the concern about him being ill and all, though I must admit that I think Ser Donal is right in that their quest for Andraste's Ashes is a bit on the extreme side, but still …." She could remember clearly Alistair's insistence that they head to Redcliffe first, his protest when Morrigan had suggested visiting the elves or heading to the dwarves instead. (Interestingly enough, and Bry knew that Morrigan was well aware of her condition and that they required a healing mage, Flemeth's daughter had made no suggestion of going to the Tower just yet.)

Alistair sighed and set the rest of his work aside. He rose and moved around the fire to sit a bit closer to Bryallyn, his voice dropping in volume just a bit as he sat and began, "I told you before how I Arl Eamon raised me, right?"

Bryallyn nodded. "Though, as I recall, you later tried to claim it was a pack of dogs … from the Anderfels, wasn't it?" She saw him blush slightly, but he accepted the teasing.

"Yes, well … anyway … truth is, there is more to the story. I didn't say anything before because … well, because it's a moot point, really."

Bryallyn frowned as she tried to follow what he was saying. "What is?" she asked softly. Reaching out, she rested a hand on his forearm in an effort to calm him. "Alistair, is there something you haven't told me?"

He lifted his hand and rubbed the back of his neck in a gesture of nervousness. "Yes, actually," he finally admitted. "You see, … Arl Eamon took me in and raised me … because … well, because my mother was a serving girl at the castle and my father … well … my father was King Maric."

Bryallyn stared at him blankly for a moment as she sorted through his words. _King Maric?_ "You … you're King Cailan's ... brother?" she whispered in astonishment.

His face seemed to redden even more. "Half-brother," he muttered in clarification.

Bryallyn closed her journal and set it aside before she turned to face him eye to eye. "I want to make certain I understand this," she told him quietly and without judgement, quickly looking around him to make certain no one was eavesdropping nearby. Sten was on watch at the far end of the camp she saw, Constant at his side which Bryallyn found interesting and perhaps something to investigate later. Leliana had gone off to bathe in a nearby pond, and Morrigan was in her own little camp that she had set up a bit apart from the rest and appeared to be occupied brewing her potions and what all she worked on each night they made camp. Looking up at Alistair, Bryallyn caught his gaze and held it as she said in a soft voice, "You are telling me then that you are of royal blood?"

Bryallyn watched him closely for his reaction, his previous comments having already given her an indication of his thoughts on the matter. "I … I would have told you, Bry, but … it never really meant anything to me. I was 'inconvenient.' A possible threat to Cailan's rule, and so they kept me secret. I've never talked about it to anyone before."

Bryallyn continued to watch him closely. _And yet you chose to tell me …._

"Everyone who knew either resented me for it," Bry found herself recalling his comments to her previously about Lady Isolde's reaction and his subsequent departure for the Templars at age ten, "or they coddled me. Even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it." He sighed then, a heavy, weighted sound, almost sounding wounded. _And perhaps he is at that_, she mused as she recalled his reaction to Duncan telling them to go to the Tower of Ishal instead of onto the fields of Ostagar during the battle. "I didn't want you to know for as long as possible. I'm sorry."

Bryallyn's eyes closed for a moment, her mind working furiously over what he had just told her. "I think … I understand, Alistair," she told him quietly. Opening her eyes again, she offered him a slight smile. "In a way … we are in a similar situation, don't you think? I mean … you know things about me, about my … current situation that no one else knows." She heard him sigh then and thought it sounded a bit relieved this time.

Alistair hesitated as he started to speak, biting back his words for just a moment, but then forced himself to continue. "I suppose we are …. Besides," he added, turning the topic back to him and away from the potential for disaster with a discussion about Rendon Howe, "It's not like I got special treatment for it anyhow."

Bryallyn's smile softened. "No … not from what you told me," she agreed. They sat in silence for a time, both turning to face the fire again, each to their own thoughts. After a while, Bryallyn glanced askance at him before smirking slightly and echoing his earlier comment, "So … you're not just a bastard … but a royal bastard then?"

For just a brief moment, Bryallyn had to wonder if she had misjudged him, the situation, because the silence around them suddenly seemed to grow thick with tension … but it did not last. With one of his characteristic lopsided smiles, Alistair's chuckle started deep and soft, growing incrementally until his shoulders began shaking with amusement. The moment she heard it, Bryallyn relaxed, allowing herself a laugh as well. The tension dissipated then and he finally replied, "Ha! Ha! Yes, I guess it does mean that, doesn't it?" Nudging her gently with his shoulder until she fell over to her side laughing (an overly dramatic move on her part, but it was part of the fun!), he added with a grin, "I should use that line more often."

Bryallyn remained on her side then, adjusting her position to something more comfortable, though her focus stayed upon her fellow Warden. "At any rate, that's it," he concluded after a time. "That's what I wanted to tell you. I decided you should know all about it just in case … well …."

Bryallyn nodded and turned to stare into the fire. Cutting off his thoughts, she teased softly, "Are you certain, Alistair? You aren't hiding anything else, are you?"

She could still hear amusement in his tone and was relieved he had taken her words as they had been intended: light, easy and something to joke about. "Besides my unholy love of fine cheeses and a minor obsessions with my hair -"

"Minor?" Bryallyn cut him off with just a touch of indignation. "Never have I seen _anyone_ who -"

"No," he cut right back. "That's it. Just the prince thing."

Snickering quietly, Bryallyn pushed it just a bit further. "So, should I be calling you Prince Alistair then?" It didn't take long to realize that she'd mis-spoken. Alistair went very quiet and when Bryallyn glanced over at him, he seemed incredibly ill at ease and slightly pale. Backtracking just a bit, she offered more gently, "Do you not think you might have a larger role to play now?"

It took him a moment to pull himself together, but Alistair was fairly quick to reply, "I have no illusions, Bry, about my status. It has always been made _very_ clear to me that I am a commoner and now a Grey Warden and in no way in line for the throne."

"Times change as circumstances dictate," Bryallyn pointed out firmly. "With both Maric and Cailan gone, you are the only remaining member of the royal bloodline. I should think it wouldn't matter whether your mother was a commoner or that you were a Grey Warden." Tilting her head to look over at him, she added, "You are the blood heir, Alistair. This is something you must consider."

Again, he seemed to pale. Almost immediately, his head began shaking back and forth in a negative manner. "No, if there's an heir to be found, it's Arl Eamon."

_That_ caused Bryallyn to sit upright once more. "Arl Eamon?" She knew her voice sounded almost incredulous, but she could not help it. When King Maric had gone missing five years before, even though Cailan was a viable contender for the throne, it had been her father whom the people had wanted to take on the role of kingship. Bryce had refused, insisting that the line of Calenhad continue, yet … the thought of having the kingship pass to Arl Eamon ….

"He's not of royal blood," Alistair admitted, "but he's Cailan's uncle … and more importantly, he's very popular with the people."

Bryallyn looked away from him for a moment. It wasn't that she wished the arl ill or anything, nor did she think he would be a bad choice …. It was simply that Alistair seemed so off-handed in his manner … or maybe it was his easy dismissal of his role? She would have to think on this more, perhaps try to offer him more to consider.

"Though, … if he is really as sick as we've heard. No," Alistair's voice hardened just a bit. "I don't want to think about that. I really don't."

Swallowing any irritation she might feel, Bryallyn sat back up then and turned to face him once more. "You are going to have to consider it, Alistair," she told him firmly. She saw a look of sheer panic hit him then and she hurried on. "I don't mean right this moment, and certainly you would not be alone. But, think on this and perhaps it will give you some sort of guidance: right now, with King Cailan gone, and the very real possibility of Arl Eamon being seriously ill, you are the country's best option to remove Loghain's influence. I am not naive enough to suggest that it would be an easy task, nor one that we would be able to head into without some sort of support … just think on it. You knew Cailan. If you knew him, you know of Queen Anora. Do you _really_ want her running the country with her father as her advisor or, worse yet, as regent?"

Rising to her feet then, Bryallyn gave him one more look before sighing softly and turning to walk in the direction of Sten and Constant who were still patrolling the camp.

As she neared the pair, Bryallyn noted that Sten had knelt down in front of Constant and they appeared to be having a 'discussion' of sorts. Remaining back a few paces so as not to interrupt them, Bryallyn tilted her head in curiosity as she observed Sten growling at her hound. Though confused on her own part, Bry noted that Constant seemed to understand. Her hound began growling in a similar manner, leaning forward slightly, responding to the huge Qunari. Sten growled some more then, his volume and intensity increasing to which Bryallyn noticed the hound hold the man's gaze before barking happily a few times.

"You are a true warrior and worthy of respect," Bryallyn heard Sten tell the animal then. Constant barked again, bowing his head slightly in his acceptance and appreciation of the acknowledgment. It was obviously a moment of bonding between the two, and one in which Bryallyn decided it would be best to leave them. Turning off to her right, she started towards her tent instead. Though still early for the night, she was on third watch and decided that it would be in her best interest to get as much rest as she could while opportunity presented itself.

Halfway there, Bryallyn came upon Leliana who was seated outside her tent combing through hair damp from her bathing before turning to re-plait the small braid she wore to the side. "Good evening, Warden," she greeted with a smile. "Would you like to sit for a while?"

Bryallyn agreed and took a seat as Leliana began speaking softly, asking of the evening. Bryallyn responded in kind and the conversation continued, eventually turned around to a discussion regarding Leliana and her time in the Lothering chantry. Bryallyn found herself smiling and even laughing as their talk continued. As she did so, she came to the realization of just how talented the woman's skill in storytelling was. _No wonder she is a minstrel_, Bryallyn thought as she listened to the tale of Aveline. _And no doubt a successful one._ Bryallyn felt herself relaxing completely as she listened.

And then, almost before she noticed it, the discussion turned to Flemeth. Bryallyn listened to Leliana's story, tossing a glance or two in the direction of Morrigan's camp to see if the younger witch could hear them and if she would react. Either she did not hear them or she did not care (or perhaps both) for Morrigan paid them no heed.

Their talk continued, jumping topics periodically, until it fell upon a discussion, of all things, hairstyles. "Here," Leliana urged, assisting Bryallyn to turn to face away from her, "let me brush your hair out for you." Their talk of hairstyles continued leading Leliana off onto another tangent, this one about a lady in Orlais who wore live birds in her hair (Bryallyn shuddered inwardly at the thought). Bryallyn made mental notes of these discussions as she learned little things about the Orlesian … Little pieces that added up into a larger, more complete picture about the musician and storyteller.

And then their talk turned towards … shoes? Bryallyn felt her body jerk up all of a sudden. _Why shoes? Even she thinks they think the silly trends are often ridiculous!_

"... clunky, fur-lined leather boots you have in Ferelden … ugh! Just look at them!"

Bry was so startled, she did just that. "What's wrong with my boots?" she asked.

"They're sturdy shoes," the minstrel clarified quickly, "but sometimes, a girl just wants to have pretty feet." She then launched into a description of a pair of boots she had been eyeing in Orlais before she left. Bryallyn found her focus drifting. Between the comforting sound of the Leliana's voice and the brush moving through her hair, she was finding herself almost falling asleep.

Bryallyn listened a bit longer until she could not stop herself from yawning widely. Lifting a hand to cover her mouth, she sighed softly before turning to glance over her shoulder at her friend. "I'm sorry," she murmured apologetically.

"No, no," Leliana assured her with a soft smile and a quick shooing motion of her hands. "Go on and get some sleep. Talking is fun but we can do it again another time."

Bryallyn nodded as she rose to her feet and turned towards her tent once more. With a wave, she left Leliana still seated outside her tent and singing softly before moving across the camp. She was met at the entrance by Constant who barked a decidedly happy greeting at her. Bryallyn ruffled the dog's fur behind his ears and murmured affectionately, "So, you have decided it's bedtime too, did you?" Opening the flap to the tent, she added teasingly, "Go on … might as well make yourself useful as a tent warmer." Following her hound inside, Bryallyn soon settled down for some rest, Constant curled nearby and offering his warmth and his presence as comfort. Despite passing the evening in good company and getting to know her companions better, Bryallyn still found her heart yearning for her husband. Before closing her eyes, she glanced down at her ring, still on her finger where he had placed it just weeks before, and sent a silent prayer to the Maker. Sleep managed to capture her half way through.


	44. Roadside Rejoinder

_t mySorry about the delay, first I was tracking down the bits of dialogue I wanted to use (HUGE thanks to Liso1996 for her assist with that!) and then another delay in trying to blend it all together in a way that I liked and worked for the story (this actually took the greatest amount of time). In case you haven't noticed by now, I tend to redo certain parts of the game in a manner that I feel is better suited to the story! Toss in an anniversary weekend, a birthday and parent-teacher conferences for my child, and ... well, you get the idea!_

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those who set favs and alerts including: Lillie Cullen, Pixie08353, .heart, PsychoWmn1, ec39, ymotts, pbw, Dr34ming, Tutor Verum and ProsePrincess. Special thanks to ProsePrincess also for mentioning my story in hers! If you haven't yet read **Shades of Grey** I highly recommend it!_

_As always, thank you to the wonderful ladies who keep me in line! **Liso1996, MireliAmbar, Erynnar, StellaSmooth** and **VioletTheirin**, you are the best friends any writer could have! :) Thank you is not nearly enough, but all I can offer._

_Bioware owns all but what I've made up …..._

_**A/N:** Musical Inspiration - *sighs* I am running out of good music to inspire me that I have not already mentioned before. So this time, I will simply say that I was inspired by an idea. I received a message from my stepson the other day who has told me that he has been inspired to write his own original soundtrack for Dragon Age: Origins. I cannot tell you how excited this made me, as I know he is very creative with his music. I am looking forward to visiting with him soon to hear some of it and, perhaps if things work out well, even perform some of it with him, if only in the privacy of a living room or some such place! Should it make it out beyond the walls of the house, I will let you know! In the meantime, I think Adele's "Rumour has it" works well enough for this chapter given all the secrets that Ali and Bry are about to share. If you have any suggestions for other music, please let me know! I'm open to any and all suggestions and my muses are desperate! :P_

* * *

It was going to be one of those days, Bryallyn thought as their party walked along. She had suspected as much when, over an hour before she was needed to cover her watch, she'd been woken from a sound sleep by a horrific nightmare. The dream had been horrible, the same roaring and threatening sounds that had come to her during the Joining … only worse. And this time, she'd been alone. She had not detected Nathaniel's presence at all, and that in itself disturbed her perhaps more than the dream itself had.

She had stood her watch, paired with Leliana that night, and it had remained quiet, thankfully. The two women had talked some more, in hushed tones so as not to disturb the others. Bryallyn was really beginning to think there was more to this minstrel-turned-Chantry sister than met the eye, but she kept such thoughts to herself for the moment. She had listened to Leliana tell her more about Orlais, mostly through her stories, and yet … there had been something else there too that, had she been well rested, Bryallyn might have been able to decipher. It had almost been like Leliana had been waiting on Bryallyn to invite her to talk about something specific, something that ….

Bryallyn frowned as she stumbled over an exposed tree root. A strong hand at her elbow kept her from falling, though, and she turned to glance up at Alistair. Smiling her thanks, she murmured, "I guess I need to pay more attention."

His smile was warm and reassuring as he joked, "But if you do that, then what damsel shall need my assistance? Hmm?" He gestured ahead of them towards Leliana. "Our Orlesian friend over there is much more capable of looking after herself than I ever would be, I should think. Did you actually _see_ her in action back in Lothering? Is there _any_ question of what her occupation must have been before she found the Chantry?"

Bryallyn chuckled and shook her head. "Alistair -"

"Or _that_ one," he continued on with a quick head tilt backwards in Morrigan's direction as if Bryallyn hadn't spoken at all. "If I were to try to assist _her_ in any way, you know full well she'd turn me into … well … into something horrible … and wretched … and -"

"You've done a fine enough job of that on your own account," the witch called forward then. "You certainly do not require _my_ assistance." Bryallyn looked up at Alistair to gauge his response and was glad to see him snort off a smirk of amusement as he guided her on, her arm now linked through his. They continued on in silence for a short distance until Alistair spoke up again, this time his demeanor a bit more on the serious side. "Bry, seriously though, are you all right? You seem a bit … distracted today."

Bryallyn sighed, not surprised in the least that he had noticed. Whether it was something he had picked up because they shared the taint, or simply because he was a kind and decent person capable of reading a person's mood didn't matter. The fact was that he knew. "I'm fine," she assured him quickly, tossing him a smile and hoping it would way-lay his concerns. Looking up at him, she realized by his raised brow that her words had done nothing of the sort. Sighing, she offered a half-hearted smile and shrugged lightly. "I … didn't sleep well," she finally admitted.

A knowing look passed over his face then, one in which she could almost see the light of understanding in his eyes as he made the connection, whatever it might be. Tilting her head to the side, she waited for him to continue. "Bad dreams, huh?" he asked.

Bryallyn nodded. "Yes," she admitted reluctantly. "Thing is," she continued, a bit of confusion evident in her voice, "it seemed so real. And, it wasn't about what I'd thought it would be …." She struggled to find a way to explain. "I've become … somewhat used to having nightmares about Highever, about our escape and -" her breath caught just a bit, "the loss of my family. This … this was something entirely different …."

Alistair's smile was understanding if somewhat rueful. "Well, it is .. sort of," he returned quietly. "You see, part of being a Grey Warden is being able to hear the darkspawn."

This caused Bryallyn to frown a bit and blink. "Hear them?" she echoed.

He nodded in affirmation. "That is what your dream was. Hearing them. The archdemon it … 'talks' to the horde and we 'hear' it just as they do."

Something clicked in her head with his words. "The taint!" she whispered.

Again he nodded. "And _that_ is why we know this is really a Blight. We know for certain an archdemon is behind this … and you only have an archdemon around if there is a Blight."

Bryallyn remained silent for a moment as they walked along, digesting all that he had just told her. "The archdemon? Is that the … the dragon?" she asked after a moment.

Alistair nodded and chuckled a bit, though he was quick to add, "I don't know if it's really a dragon, but it sure looks like one. But to answer your question, yes, that is the archdemon."

They walked some more in silence then, Bryallyn still sorting things through her head. "And this … these dreams, _nightmares_, will continue for … how long?" she asked after a time. "Just during the Blight? Forever?"

Alistair sighed softly, almost reluctantly, before he began explaining. "It takes a bit, but eventually you can block the dreams out," he replied without actually answering her question. "Some of the older Grey Wardens say they can even understand the archdemon a bit, but I sure can't."

Bryallyn felt a bit of horror at that thought for some reason and could not hold back a shudder. _Understand that beast? Why would anyone want to be able to do that?_ _Though, being able to understand its intentions would be handy_. _But still …._

Bryallyn decided it was time to discuss something else because the thoughts about understanding the archdemon were beginning to make her nauseous. Whether that had to do with the subject or the fact she was pregnant she didn't know, nor did she really care - she just wanted to switch topics. "So," she breathed after a moment, searching for something safe to discuss, "What was it like?" _What was it like? Maker's sake, Bry, can't you come up with something better than that? _"To be a Grey Warden with all the other Wardens, that is," she added and hoped the question didn't sound as lame as she thought it did.

Alistair looked ahead of them as they walked, his face taking on a thoughtful look. "Well, I didn't know them for very long," he began, clearly searching for something he could tell her, "but I guess it was longer than you. You never did meet them all, did you?"

Bryallyn shook her head. There just hadn't been time before the battle had begun at Ostagar.

"Hmm, well … they were quite a group. Actually, they felt like an extended family, since we were all cut off from our former lives."

_Cut off from their former lives …._ Bryallyn glanced up at him, sudden fear stalking her. "Wait, Alistair … does that mean -?"

Something in her voice caught his attention and Alistair glanced down at her. He noted the worried expression on her face but it was not until she lifted her hand to rest at her waist that he understood about what she was so concerned. Smiling, he stopped walking and gave her a quick, reassuring hug. "Bry, you are something completely unique to the Wardens," he told her sincerely. "Duncan mentioned that to me, you know? I didn't understand what he meant at first." He blushed a bit and then shrugged and waited for the others to pass by before he added, "Wynne finally made certain I knew before the battle. 'Just in case,' she'd said. I suppose it was just as well. Anyway, the Wardens don't usually take on women, but for whatever reason, Duncan asked you." He sighed softly. "Even when he knew the entire situation."

Bryallyn frowned. "Weren't there any other women Wardens?" she asked.

Alistair shuffled just a bit as if he were uncomfortable. "No, not as Wardens, at least not while I was there," he explained awkwardly. "But remember, I was only with them for six months. I did see pictures of some of them, though none were as pretty as you are …."

Bryallyn blinked and almost laughed when she saw his face redden as he realized what he'd said. Swallowing her amusement, she allowed him to continue without comment. "What I mean to say is … well, we'll find a way to make it all work, Bry. We're the only two Wardens left in Ferelden, right?"

Bryallyn observed the effort he was making to swing the discussion back to something more tolerable. Offering him a smile, she nodded. "Right. What can they do, kick us out?" she returned. He apparently found this amusing because he began chuckling softly, and she tried to steer it back towards something easier to discuss. "So, tell me more about the others?"

Alistair sighed again, pulling her arm through his again and leading her off in the direction the rest of their group had taken. Their party was not to far ahead, though it was enough of a distance to give him a comfortable buffer zone to discuss Warden topics away from curious ears. "Well, let me think …. We laughed more than you might think. There was this one time …." He glanced down at her, checking to see that she really wanted to hear this story about men she didn't even know.

Bryallyn's smile widened a bit and she nodded encouragingly. "Please, go on," she told him.

"Well, there was this one Warden who came all the way from the Anderfels. His name was … Gregor? Grigor? Something like that. Anyway, he was a burly man with the biggest, fuzziest beard you've ever seen. And the man could _drink_! He drank all the time but never got drunk. Finally, we all made a pool to see just how many pints it would take to put him under the table."

Bryallyn could not stop herself from giggling. This story was beginning to take on an all too familiar sound. "Sounds like you had a lot of fun," she finally managed.

The smile on his face faded just a bit as he replied, "Sometimes. We were kin of a sort. All of us had gone through the Joining, so we knew …. Anyhow, it doesn't have to be deadly serious all of the time."

Bryallyn found herself looking away from him then, turning her scowl so her friend and fellow Warden would not see it and misinterpret it. _Thanks to people like Rendon Howe and Teyrn Loghain … well, I'm sorry, but I would have to argue that point with you._ Sighing, she struggled to push the thought aside. _Maybe Alistair is right._ Maker knew she'd heard her father say something to that effect plenty of times before.

"You know, we never did find out."

Bryallyn blinked as his voice broke into her thoughts. "Find out?"

"How much Gregor could drink," he reminded her. "He said he'd drink a pint for every half-pint that the rest of us would drink, too. He was still going at it by the time that the rest of us were passed out. I'm told that Duncan walked in later on and saw us all passed out from one end of the hall to the other, and Gregor still drinking. Duncan laughed until he nearly …."

Bryallyn snapped her gaze back up to Alistair's as his voice trailed off. _Damn … _ "Alistair, I'm sorry," she murmured gently, her arm tightening around his for a moment. "This must be difficult for you."

He sighed heavily, the emotion shuddering through his large frame as he did so. "I'd thought I was done with this …."

Bryallyn's grasp tightened. "Don't," she advised in a quiet voice so that the others wouldn't hear. "There is no need. I understand that Duncan was important to you."

"I guess … it's just that … I just realized that I have nothing to remember Duncan by. Nothing at all. There's no body, not even a token of his that I could take with me …." He darted a quick glance at her, his face reddening just a bit. "I'm sorry … this must sound really stupid to you … after what you've been through."

Bryallyn blinked at first, then felt a soft smile tilt at her lips. "Not at all, Alistair. Duncan was your family, so were the rest of the Wardens." Based on the information he'd given her so far regarding his background, she could understand all too easily how he might have attached himself to such a group - a place he finally belonged and could call home. And now, that had been torn away from him …. "And while our situations are similar, I did at least have some tokens to take with me." Her gaze fell to Constant who was trotting alongside Sten a short distance ahead of them. The thumb of her left hand strayed to the silverite band on her second to last finger. Her right hand lifted to touch the tip of _Wicked Grace_ at her shoulder. Yes, she had her tokens and though they did not replace those she had loved and lost, they were reminders … something which Alistair did not have.

Sighing softly, she continued, "As sad as it is, we have something in common, besides being Wardens. If anyone might understand what you are going through right now, don't you think it would be me?" She saw him smile just a bit, enough to know that her words appeared to help, and at this point in time, that was all that mattered. If she had him and his troubles to focus on, it would leave less time for her to focus on her own losses, right?

They continued along, Bryallyn allowing her thoughts to drift around a bit, searching for another topic of discussion. "So tell me," she interjected after a time, "what changes about you after the Joining?"

Alistair found a way to pull himself out of his rapidly spiraling funk by latching onto her question and teasing back in return, "You mean aside from becoming a Grey Warden?"

Bryallyn allowed this, though she did nudge him in the ribs just a bit. His, "Ouch! Hey!" was enough to suggest that perhaps she'd elbowed him just a but harder than she'd intended …. "Well, you've been a Warden longer than I have," she reminded him.

"Heh … yeah," he returned, his hand rising to rub the sore spot for a brief moment. "Well, … you know, I asked Duncan that once. All I got from him was, 'You'll see ….'"

Bryallyn snorted and waggled her elbow near his ribs once more. "Just try that line on me!" she threatened.

He chuckled and countered quickly, "I have other lines for you, trust me."

Bryallyn stopped dead in her tracks, releasing his arm and darting her eyes up to meet his … and his now very, very red face. "Sorry! I mean … I … um …."

Bryallyn sighed and stepped closer. It was clear to her that he had spoken before he really had given thought to what he would say … and she recalled that he had said he'd been raised to be a Templar …. "It's all right, Alistair," she murmured, her arm sliding through his again. "No harm done."

It took him a moment or two, but he seemed to lose the flustered attitude. After a few more moments in which he appeared to struggle to pull himself together, he started again. "It isn't that Duncan wants to keep it a secret, Bry, it's just … well, the Warden's don't really discuss it much. I gather it's not a pleasant topic."

She frowned slightly. "So you don't know?"

"Not at all. I know some things … like …. Well, the first change that I noticed was an increase in appetite. I used to get up in the middle of the night and raid the castle larder. I thought I was starving. I'd slurp down every dinner like it was my last, my face all covered in gravy. When I'd look up, the other Wardens would stare at me and then laugh themselves to tears." He was laughing, she realized, which was another good sign.

"I haven't felt anything like that," Bryallyn mused.

Alistair's snort was enough to indicate his opinion on her comment. "Really? Because I was watching you wolf down food the other day and I thought, 'Well, it's a good things she gets plenty of exercise!'"

Bryallyn gasped. "You didn't!" She watched him a moment and then looked to stumble just a bit … just enough that when he bent over to assist her once more her elbow caught him mid-ribcage once more, eliciting a yelp from him. "Are you calling me a pig?"

Alistair straightened and rubbed his abused ribcage with his other hand, though he was laughing heartily. "Not at all! I've never seen a pig eat like that. Ever." His grin widened, but this time he jumped out to the side a half step so her elbow couldn't connect. "I jest! I jest! Don't kill me!" he joked.

Bryallyn simply rolled her eyes. "Wynne told me I'd be hungrier as the baby grew," she said defensively.

Alistair relented just a bit. "I'm sure that's a part of it, though honestly, Wardens do eat more … a _lot_ more. Something to do with our bodies reacting or adjusting to the taint or something. We all had free access to the larder whenever we needed, and the kitchen staff always had food on hand at all times of day or night."

There was a pause, and then Alistair continued. "Let's see, you know about the nightmares now. Duncan said it has something to do with how we sense the darkspawn … like 'hearing' the archdemon. We tap into their … well, I don't know what you'd call it." He paused briefly, tilting his head to the side as he considered the best way to describe it. "Their 'group mind,' perhaps?" He saw her nod her understanding at his description. "And when we sleep, it's even worse. As you go on, you'll learn to block it out, though at first it's difficult. It's supposed to be worse for those who Join during a Blight." They exchanged a look then, one that told him she it was the same for her, and Alistair nodded. "Some people never have much trouble, but that is really rare. Others have trouble sleeping their entire life. They're just more … sensitive, I suppose. Everyone ends up the same, though."

"The same?" Bryallyn thought that those words sounded rather ominous.

Alistair nodded. "Once you reach a certain age, the _real_ nightmares come. That is how a Grey Warden knows when his time has come."

Bryallyn frowned. "Alistair, what are you talking about?" She could feel a jittery feeling along her arms suddenly. She had no doubt she was not going to like what he was about to say.

Alistair sighed. "Duncan never had time to tell you, did he? Right. Well, in addition to all the wonderful things about being a Grey Warden, you don't need to worry about dying from old age. You've got … thirty years to live. Give or take."

Bryallyn felt her throat tighten up as she gasped. _Thirty years?_ She looked up at him and searched his eyes. In them, she found resolute acceptance. Bryallyn sighed softly, her gaze dropping to the ground before her. _Thirty years … what's the point in dreading that when it will mean thirty years of loneliness without Nathaniel?_ she mused silently. _In thirty years, my child will have established a life of his or her own and I will be alone … except for the Wardens._ Bryallyn's eyes closed tightly and she willed the tears to leave.

"The taint … it's a death sentence," Alistair continued, his voice dropping again so that only she could hear. "Ultimately your body won't be able to take it. When the time comes, most Grey Wardens go to Orzammar and die in battle rather than … waiting. It's tradition."

"Why Orzammar?" she queried in a hoarse voice from swallowing back more misery.

"Well, you'll always find darkspawn down where the dwarves are. The oldest Grey Wardens head to the Deep Roads for one last glorious battle. Not that there's a shortage of darkspawn during the Blight, by any means, but that's the tradition. The dwarves respect us for it." He glanced down at her and gave her a quirky smile. "And you wondered why we kept the Joining a secret from the new recruits? There you have it."

Bryallyn held his gaze and replied honestly, "I never wondered that, Alistair. I understood."

Silence again before, "You know, Duncan … he started having the nightmares again. He told me that - in private. He said it wouldn't be long before he'd go to Orzammar himself. I guess he got what he wanted. I just wish it had been something worthy of him."

Bryallyn smiled and squeezed Alistair's arm once more. "He will be remembered, Alistair. As will the others."

"I know. Ending the Blight … should make this all worthwhile, right?"

Bryallyn's smile was complete, if a bit sad. "Right."

"Right then." Shaking off the rapidly approaching melancholy, he glanced down at her again and asked, "Shall we catch up with the others? We should be nearing Redcliffe soon … and as much as I trust them to lead the way, I somehow doubt Arl Eamon would be impressed with seeing me again if he meets Morrigan first …."

Bryallyn chuckled softly as they quickened their steps, and then laughed aloud as Alistair's face reddened as they both heard said mage respond, "T'wouldn't be difficult to impress him then, I should imagine. After all, Alistair managed to."

"Ignore her," Bryallyn said softly, though another giggle escaped. "Because if you don't, I shall have to start calling you 'My Prince,' and we both know -"

"Right, right," he broke in and cut off her comment. "This way. Sooner we get there, the sooner we can defeat the Blight …."

Bryallyn couldn't help the chuckles that continued to escape between her lips as they moved to the front of the group. Some things, no doubt, would never change ….


	45. Refugees

_Well, delay on this one came honestly enough - I was hit from behind a couple of weeks ago while driving home from work. I'm okay, but the car (sadly) is not and the process of trying to get everything worked out so I can get it fixed is pulling me away from this. :( Trust me, I would much rather be writing … or at least losing myself in Thedas as I write, than having to deal with that stuff!_

_Thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as setting favs and alerts including: Lillie Cullen, ymotts, supersonicmom, Calibelle, Nocterayne, The Master Assassin, Yongsu, AresxBellona and ProsePrincess. Your continued interest keeps me going during the bad patches! :)_

_Thanks as always to my fabulous betas - **MireliAmbar, Liso1966, VioletTheirin, StellaSmooth, mackillian** and **Erynnar**. I couldn't do it without you, my friends! Thank you hardly seems enough!_

_As always, Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N:** Musical Inspiration: Well, let me see … "Nemo" by Nighwish has been playing more of late; "Renegade" by Styx is another (an all time favorite dating back to my teenage years when my father used to threaten to break my album - yes, I am from the vinyl generation!), and just for kicks …. how about "Tough Boy" by TomCat from the Japanese anime series Hokuto no Ken 2 that my hubby introduced me to years ago. Man, I miss '80s music … it used to be so good! And this song is a fun one - definitely one I could see used for Nathaniel. :) Oh, and also "Ocean Gypsy" by Blackmore's Night._

* * *

Their journey west to Lake Calenhad took them along the same path as the Imperial Highway … relatively speaking. Trinion and Nathaniel both agreed from the outset that to travel openly on the highway would be to invite the chance of being spotted by Rendon Howe's men who were patrolling the area … or by those who were in allegiance with him. Instead of walking on the highway itself, then, they decided to remain offset from it, distant. Close enough to follow it's path, to use the bridges when absolutely necessary, or simply when it became too difficult otherwise through the surrounding forests and hills. The biggest downfall to this plan was that it would delay their progress. In the end, it took them over a week to reach the northern end of Lake Calenhad where the highway then forked and traveled around the lake as it began its turning southwards.

When it became necessary to re-provision or seek out information, it was usually one of Rhyan's men who ventured forth into the towns, villages and hamlets of the Bannorn; men unknown to any others in Ferelden, yet two who spoke the language fluently enough to pass as natives. It was one such trip when they had just passed the docks on their southward turn that they started receiving hints as to what had occurred in Ostagar.

Nathaniel and Grayson were just returning from a hunt for their evening meal when they entered camp to find Cadoc and Rhys seating themselves by the fire. Grayson said not a word, simply took the rabbits from his lord and walked across camp to clean them while Nathaniel approached the rest of the group and took a seat. He nodded his thanks as Rhyan handed him a warm cup before turning towards her men and asking, "Well, what were you able to find out?"

"Innkeeper we spoke to says he's seen different sorts of people moving through," Rhys informed them after downing half of his drink at once and sighing at the warmth it provided. "Some soldiers, he said, though not many."

"Highever soldiers?" Trinion asked while leaning forward just a bit. He shared a quick look with Nathaniel.

"None that he's identified," was the reply. With a shrug, he added, "He might be able to tell the soldiers from the commonfolk, but I doubt he could identify the difference between armies." He downed the remainder of his mug and handed it back to Rhyan. Wiping the corners of his mouth with his shirtsleeve, he continued, "The man also said there are more and more refugees showing up; freeholders from the southlands, their families and all, moving north away from the darkspawn incursion."

The silence hung for a long moment. Nathaniel and Trinion shared a look. The darkspawn had been the reason for Highever's troops to go to Ostagar in the first place. If the refugees were fleeing them, risking all and traveling north, then the battle down there must not have gone well at all.

"He did say," Cadoc broke into the silence then, "that some of the mages who'd gone to Ostagar have returned to the Tower." He pointed vaguely in the direction of the northern end of Lake Calenhad where the Circle Tower rose towards the sky. "He didn't come right out and say it, but sounds from his description of events as if the battle there was lost."

All were silent at his words, thoughts trailing off towards different destinations. Nathaniel, for his part, found himself surprisingly calm. There was no doubt in his mind now that the battle had already been waged. _But, what of Fergus, Highever's troops, and more importantly, Bry?_ Staring into the fire, he found his thoughts focusing on his wife. _That far south … a battle that did not go well … surely there must be some place they could seek refuge? Assistance? Rainesfere? Bann Teagan would surely help. Or Redcliffe? Or had Arl Eamon and his troops been at Ostagar? Maybe they have headed north and east towards Denerim?_ Nathaniel frowned at this. _Would Bry have insisted they move to Denerim? To seek help from more of the nobles against Arl Howe at Highever? South Reach and Arl Bryland lay along that route …._

"... I still think we need to head in that direction," Trinion was saying, his words finally bringing Nathaniel's attention back to the present. "We must be more cautious now, for I think it is clear that we will not only be hunted by Howe's men but by the darkspawn as well …."

Nathaniel found himself staring at the man for a long moment. It wasn't that Trinion had referred to Rendon's men as "Howe's men," that had caught his attention, but the way in which he had said it. Any doubts about whether or not the man from Highever trusted Nathaniel were completely gone. "We will continue south," Nathaniel agreed after a moment longer, his eyes meeting Trinion's across the fire. "We cannot rely on rumor to tell us what has happened. We must find it out for ourselves."

Grayson returned to the fire then and took a seat with the new skinned animals. Aside from being an excellent hunter, Grayson had turned out to be a rather decent cook. _Certainly better than the rest of us,_ Nathaniel thought with mild amusement, including himself in the 'lacking' group. Soon the smell of the roasting meat and herbs was enough to make his stomach start grumbling. Rather than sitting around and waiting, Nathaniel decided to go tend to his armor and weapons while the meal cooked.

* * *

It was some time later, bellies filled, watches set and a mood of general relaxation spreading around the camp; Nathaniel was listening to Grayson talk about the first time he had gone hunting with Bryallyn, sent as an escort to protect her when she was a teenager. Nathaniel could not help but smile and laugh along with the others as the man described seeing a wolf coming out of the trees, approaching them, and of Bryallyn teasing Grayson the whole time. "'Let me see if I can talk to him,' she said!" he looked around the group. "Understand, I had _no_ idea she was a ranger at that time, let alone a talented one. So, of course I thought she had lost her mind … especially as she was able to easily walk right up to the creature, as happy as you please, before kneeling beside him and 'speaking' to him!" As they laughed, and Trinion began teasing Grayson, the man defended himself. "I tell you, that wolf was laughing at me too!"

The laughter of those listening was something Nathaniel felt he could hold onto, perhaps even bring him closer to his wife than he had ever been before even though he was missing her physical presence. While he still worried for her, the unknown being as frightening and nerve-wracking as it was, listening to the others as they shared their recollections, their stories, their interactions with Bryallyn helped to ease that feeling for the moment.

Until, of course, Rhyan began a story about finding Nathaniel after he had received one of his letters from his, at that time, future wife. "Never before have I seen him move so quickly -!"

Nathaniel scowled at her. "I wanted privacy. Is that so difficult a concept to understand?" he muttered. He was about to say more, but a movement across the camp in the direction of one of the men on watch caught his attention. Then he heard voices. His companions all hushed, noticing the disruption as well. Quietly, blades and bows were drawn as the group began to break up, to move away from the fire and set themselves into more advantageous positions.

"My lord?" Nathaniel heard a voice call out. It was Trinion. If the man was calling for him in such a casual manner, identifying him as someone of rank within their group, the situation should not be all that serious … right?

Picking his way across the camp, Nathaniel approached to find three people speaking with the Highever man. "Please," the man was saying, "we only wish a safe, secure place to rest for the night. My wife … my daughter … we've lost so much and still have such a long journey to make …."

"Trinion," Nathaniel murmured as he moved to join the group.

Trinion nodded. "My lord, they claim to be fleeing Lothering," he explained.

The man, an elf, Nathaniel noted, nodded. "Please, my lord," he begged, "we are simply trying to make our way to the docks at the northern end of the lake. I had thought we were closer than we were …."

Nathaniel glanced at the man's wife and child, a girl who looked to be nearing her early teens, perhaps. None looked to be armed, and judging by their clothing, the meager possessions they carried with them and the overall look of them, they appeared to have been on the run for quite a while. Turning slightly, Nathaniel made a sweeping gesture towards the fire. "Please, join us," he said agreeably. As the young girl walked by, Nathaniel got a good look at how thin and gaunt she was, and he added, raising his voice so the others would hear him, "I believe we still have some food left from supper if you'd care for some?"

Within a short while, the family was seated, settled and hungrily enjoying the meal that had been offered, in between telling the tale of their journey. "We were originally heading towards Highever," Elsina, the woman, explained. "I have a brother in the alienage there, you see."

Nathaniel lifted his gaze to Trinion, concern there. Trinion shook his head once, and Nathaniel nodded in return. "Highever might not be the best place for you at the moment," he began.

Amras nodded, swallowing the mouthful of food he had taken. "We have been warned, my lord," he explained. "We were told that the situation there is … unstable at the moment."

Nathaniel blinked. _Unstable? Who would have known to tell them that?_ "That it is," he agreed quietly as he took a drink from the mug he held. "I find myself curious, though," he continued pleasantly enough, "who it is that told you this. The developments in Highever are very recent …."

The young girl, Sola by name, piped up then. "A Grey Warden told us!"

"Hush, child," Elsina murmured as she placed a firm hand on the girl's shoulder. "Eat now so you do not let your food spoil."

Nathaniel, who had stiffened just a bit at Sola's pronouncement, now looked over at Amras as the girl did her mother's bidding. "A Grey Warden?" he queried.

Nathaniel saw that man shift uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze not lifting to meet Nathaniel's. "Amras," Nathaniel urged, his voice dropped lower so that Sola could not hear as easily, "please tell me. I am searching for someone … someone from Highever whom I thought to be in the company of the Grey Wardens in Ostagar …."

Amras glanced up then. "My lord … I - I am sorry … I thought perhaps you were one of the ones …."

Trinion took a seat between Amras and his wife, shielding them from the conversation. "One of whom?" he ventured.

Amras looked between the two men, noticed the woman coming over to distract his wife and child, and he sighed softly. "You have not heard then?" he asked. After seeing the confusion on their faces, the negative shakes of both their heads, he added, "Teyrn Loghain has declared all Grey Wardens to be outlaws after what happened at Ostagar. He says, though I do not know that I believe it, he says that they are the ones responsible for the death of King Cailan!"

Nathaniel gasped. _King Cailan … dead?_ "What … what happened?" he demanded, though he made no movement that might frighten the man. "Can you tell us of the events that transpired at Ostagar?"

Amras shook his head. "We were there but only for a short time," he explained, his hands now fidgeting as he told his story. "We were advised to leave before the battle began. I was told to watch out for the safety of my family, I believe was how it was put. So we left, two days or so before the battle. We headed north, to Lothering, but with a child, it takes longer. By the time we arrived at Lothering, the town was filled with those from around the area seeking refuge from the darkspawn … and then some troops moved through. Not long enough to stay, mind, but enough to start rumors ... Rumors of defeat, of death … of the Grey Wardens leading King Cailan to his death and of Teyrn Loghain retreating with the rest of the army, taking them to Denerim, so that we would be able to live to fight another day." Amras swallowed hard and glanced at both Trinion and Nathaniel. "We had been in Lothering not even a week when we ran into one of the surviving Wardens. He was nice enough, told us he and his companions had defeated the bandits outside of the city who had stolen most of our belongings when we'd first arrived. And that was it."

Nathaniel sighed softly, his shoulders slumping just a bit. "Do you know with whom he traveled?" he chanced to ask, still clinging to hope. "Who his companions were?"

Amras frowned. "I … I'm not quite sure," he admitted. "I did see him about the town, after we had spoken, as my family and I prepared to leave there that same day. I seem to recall he was with a woman … no, two women?" His frown deepened as he thought back. "Yes, two women. One was a Chantry sister, by the look of her clothing. And there was another, a dark woman, sharp tongue, disdainful in the way she spoke … and a mabari, too …. They were trying to rescue some huge beast of a man from a cage …."

Nathaniel bit his lip. "What about the other woman?" he asked. At Amras' look of confusion, he clarified, "If I understand you right, you've accounted for three women with these two men and a mabari."

Amras blinked. "I - I don't rightly know," he returned. "I … I remember her being with them, of seeing her with them, but I can't tell you what she looked like …. She was in leather armor, I think. Carried both blades and a bow. The dog walked beside her …." Amras looked at Nathaniel squarely and shook his head. "I am sorry, my lord."

Nathaniel shook his head. "Do not be sorry," he replied, albeit reluctantly. "You have provided me with more information than I had before." Rising to his feet, he added, "Please make camp with us tonight, sleep in safety. Tomorrow you should reach the docks if you continue along the Imperial Highway. We will continue to head south, towards Lothering. Maybe these Wardens are still there and we can meet up with them there." So saying, Nathaniel turned and crossed through camp to take up his turn at watch. He was not scheduled until third watch, but there would be no sleep for him just yet. Perhaps one of the others would switch with him ….

Amras allowed his gaze to follow after Nathaniel's retreating form for a moment. Then, turning towards Trinion, he asked, "Did I say something wrong?"

Trinion shook his head and too a long drink from his mug. "No, my friend," he explained as his gaze was captured by the flickering blaze. Reaching over, he tossed another log onto the fire and added, "If you've a mind to listen, I can tell you a bit about why you were warned away from Highever … and why he," he nodded after Nathaniel, "is headed towards Lothering and Ostagar to look for the Wardens …."

As he walked the perimeter of the camp that evening, his mind sifting through the information he had gleaned, Nathaniel felt a prickling sensation of unease work its way across the back of his neck. Frowning, he took a moment to look around him. Nothing seemed out of place, everything seemed … normal. Almost too normal. Nathaniel decided to step off into the treeline for a few moments in an attempt to acclimatize his eyes to the darkness and to look around some more. Yet he found nothing. He continued on then with his watch, following the path around the camp, and with each circuit he made, whenever he reached that spot, he felt the same sensation. He spoke with Padraig at the opposite end of the perimeter, as their paths crossed, to see if he too was aware of anything, yet the man replied that he did not. It was not until shortly before his watch ended that Nathaniel was able to walk past that area and feel at ease once more. Twice more he circled the perimeter, and each time all was well. As he made his way to his tent after passing his watch off to Grayson, Nathaniel found himself pondering just what had happened.

* * *

His timing had been impeccable. He had placed himself into position just before the elven family had arrived at the camp, and in such a location as to be able to hear most of the conversation despite their efforts to keep quiet. Though he had not heard many of the details, he'd heard enough that, added to what he had already gathered from others back at the docks, gave him a more complete picture as to the events at Ostagar. _Duncan, my friend, In death, sacrifice, _he thought silently_._ Now was not the time to grieve, he knew, but he could offer that silent prayer.

He had begun his retreat shortly afterwards, easing his way out of the camp as silently as he had made his way in, until his charge had almost spotted him. The man was persistent, that was certain. Never before had he had to hold his breath for so long in an effort not to be located. Only after the younger man had finally moved away had he been able to shimmy up the tree where he remained for a little while longer, curiosity more than anything else guiding him to stay. _The man is good … almost too good_. As he made his way away from their camp a short while later, he found himself wondering if the man had yet found the little 'present' that he had left him during their last 'visit.'


	46. Readying for Battle

_Thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked as well as those who have added the story to favs and alerts including: R3d0X, loranys, ProsePrincess, Erynnar, Ahriana, Lillie Cullen and AresxBellona. Your interest spurs me on when my muse decides to be difficult!_

_Thank you as always to my wonderful beta ladies: **MireliAmbar, StellaSmooth, VioletTheirin, Erynnar, Liso1966** and** mackillan**. Without you, I'd be so totally lost!_

_As always, Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N:** Musical Inspiration … let me see here … I didn't have any particular songs inspire me for this chapter, but there are a few that keep haunting me on my drive (now almost an hour via interstate) to and from work including: "Ocean Gypsy" and "Fires at Midnight" both by Blackmore's Night; "Andalucia," "Reel Around the Sun," and "Riverdance" all from the Riverdance soundtrack; and as always, any Adele, Nightwish or October Project song, of which I have many on my mp3 player! If you have any suggestions for songs, please let me know! I'm always looking for new musical inspiration!_

* * *

Bryallyn remained quiet and thoughtful as her companions left her in the center of the Chantry to head off to complete the various tasks she had assigned to them. All save for Morrigan who flat out refused to be of assistance. Again, Bryallyn found herself sighing, this time at the waste of personnel. Since the woman refused to assist, Bryallyn had sent her back to their camp outside of the village. If she would not help, she would not help - and there was too much to do … and so little time.

When they had first arrived at Redcliffe village, thankfully early in the day they would soon discover, Bryallyn had been a little disconcerted to be met by someone guarding the entrance to the village. A quick look between her and Alistair had assured her this was not the usual procedure. And then … to find Teagan there, hear his concerns about his brother ….

As she stood in the middle of the transept of the enclosure, Bryallyn found herself able to block out the sounds around her - the voice of the Revered Mother as she spoke with the children, the worried tones of some of the women seeking shelter indoors, other voices she could not identify as they sought to reassure and calm each other - and focus her thoughts towards Redcliffe castle. Her eyes closed, her center inwards, she attempted to decipher the clues she had been given.

A strong hand at her shoulder brought her quickly back to herself and, for the briefest of moments, Bryallyn felt her heart jump, her immediate reaction being to think that it was her husband. But in the next instant, as she turned to face Teagan, Bryallyn schooled her features to hide her disappointment as she knew it could not be. She must not have done well though, she noted, her eyes lifting to meet Teagan's and noting the sympathy held within. "My lady, I -"

Bryallyn's lip curled up slightly at the corner, removing any sting from her next words as she sought a way to lighten the mood, even if for just a moment. "Teagan, you insist that I call you by name, and yet you do not offer me the same courtesy. Do not force my hand and make me return to the formalities that stand between us!"

He chuckled, a sound that assured her he was well aware she meant no harm by the admonishment. "As you wish, Bryallyn," he agreed, a slight sparkle of mischief flickering behind light blue eyes. She matched this with a glint of her own, knowing he would now refuse to call her by her shortened name simply to prove a point. "Now then," he continued, gesturing over towards a small table that had a map laid out, "where shall we begin?"

Bryallyn walked over to the table, Constant following at her side and settling himself onto the floor against a wall when it became clear that his master and Teagan would be a while. Leaning over the map, Bryallyn quickly made sense of it. "Can you show me the path these creatures usually take? The most likely route or routes they will come into the village?"

Nodding, Teagan reached out and traced several lines with his fingers. "Across the bridge, most certainly," he explained. "This is the same route they have taken every night since this nightmare began. As their numbers have increased," he continued, his motions shifting towards the water between the castle and the village, "they have been coming this way as well. How exactly, I am not certain, but they are coming across the water and entering the village from the shoreline."

Bryallyn nodded and tried to hold back a shudder of revulsion at the idea of it all. She must not have succeeded, however, as she noted Teagan's hand pause for a moment before reaching out to cover hers and squeeze gently. "I know you have been through much recently, Bry," he told her quietly. "And for that you have my deepest condolences and sympathies. But you must keep in mind that what you will face this evening is beyond anything you might be able to imagine."

Bryallyn nodded as she spared him a glance. "I know," she returned softly. Sighing, she turned her gaze back to the map. She felt a slightly more than gentle nudge at her leg then and absently reached down to scratch Constant behind his ears. She murmured to him softly, reassuringly, before turning around to face the far side of the Chantry. There were so many here, people who were frightened and alone. Bryallyn noted quietly just how many of them were women, others who were too old or too young to fight.

Straightening just a bit, Bryallyn felt Teagan's hand at her shoulder once again. She spared him a quick glance before allowing her gaze to travel to the others once more. _Alone. Frightened. Not sure what to do. I am the same, and yet not …._

Bryallyn moved to step forward then, but felt a wave of dizziness assail her. Teagan's grasp tightened just enough to help her focus and regain her balance. "Sorry," she murmured as she dropped a hand to cover her stomach. "It's been a while since I last ate …." As if to back up her story, her stomach rumbled just a bit in a noise Bryallyn was coming to recognize as the Warden signal to 'feed me.' Blushing just slightly, she spared Teagan a glance. Though he grinned in some amusement, he held his tongue and remained silent, simply leading her across the room to where some of the women had provided food for the villagers to eat when they could.

"You look exhausted," he told her honestly as he handed her some bread. "Should you not rest before the battle this evening?"

Bryallyn shook her head. "The others have their duties, I have mine," she explained as she broke a piece of the bread off and popped it into her mouth to chew. "I will be fine after a bit … just a little dizziness is all. It will pass." Constant stood and moved beside her again, his presence giving her just enough to lean against should she need it. Again she reached out and scratched behind his ears in appreciation. She did not feel up to discussing with Teagan some of the other reasons behind her current condition at the moment.

Teagan frowned. There was something more here than met the eye, he thought, but he did not argue the point. Bryallyn was now a Grey Warden, the same as Alistair. He had to put his trust and faith in them. "If you are certain, then …"

They continued speaking, planning, discussing the situation in Redcliffe throughout the afternoon. Periodically, one or two of her companions would return to update her on their progress. Alistair was the first to do so, informing her that he'd spoken with Murdock and then managed to convince Owen, the blacksmith, to start up his forge once more and assist those who were protecting the town. As he related the discussion, Bryallyn glanced at him and noted the heat rising to his cheeks. Concern gripping her, she reached out and touched his arm. "Alistair? Are you ill?" She wondered if perhaps they ought to step outside for the remainder of the discussion.

"No," he promised quickly. "No, not ill … it's just … well, I sort of promised him we would look for his daughter … in the castle … when we get there." The red darkened just a bit. "I'm sorry if -"

Bryallyn smiled knowingly and patted his arm again. "Don't worry about it," she told him reassuringly. "If she's inside there and still alive, we will find her for him. And," she was quick to point out, "it did satisfy him enough to get him working again. So … a job well done, yes?" She almost laughed when Alistair's cheeks darkened just a bit more. "Can I not compliment you on a job well done? Or must you always become embarrassed?" she teased gently.

Alistair chuckled and lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck. "Yes, well … if you only knew what happens when I lead," he returned somewhat jokingly. "Eventually we all end up lost … and without pants …."

Bryallyn's eyes widened at that thought and she could not contain a quick snort of amusement. "Alistair, you just don't give yourself enough credit for a job well done," she murmured. "At any rate, you got Owen occupied and actually assisting, that's the main thing. Now, let's see what else needs doing, shall we?"

Bryallyn found another errand for him, sending him off to see if he could track down a boy named Bevin who was the brother of one of the young women taking shelter in the Chantry. After his departure, Teagan stepped beside her once more and spoke with a heavy dose of regret in his tone. "I suspect I did Alistair a great injustice in his youth."

Bryallyn looked up at him and lifted a brow. "Hmm? Why do you say that, Teagan?" she queried.

"Has he told you about it? His childhood here, I mean. About being forced to live in the stables … of how he was treated?" At Bryallyn's urging, Teagan related the information to her, admitting his own fault in the process. By the time he reached the end of his tale, he was saying, "I should have done more … somehow."

Bryallyn shook her head. "No, Teagan," she said quietly. "You were just taking over control of your own bannorn. What else could you have done? Arl Eamon and Lady Isolde are the ones responsible and are the ones who will have to answer for this in time. But all of that aside, and while it helps give me an understanding into certain events and how he reacts to them, I think Alistair is beginning to come to terms with what happened in his past and where he is headed for the future with the Wardens." As she smiled at him, Bryallyn recalled Alistair's words regarding his parentage and couldn't help but wonder if that would now play a part in her companion's future as well now that both Maric and Cailan were gone.

Leliana arrived a short time later, approaching Bryallyn with a look of concern furrowing her features. Excusing herself from Teagan, Bryallyn approached the woman. "Leliana, is there a problem?" she asked immediately. Leliana had been sent to speak with Ser Perth and the other knights of Redcliffe who were preparing for the attack.

Leliana's frown deepened just a bit as she relayed the discussion she had just had with Ser Perth. "He … he wants me to ask for … idols, for icons, for them to wear! It's blasphemous!"

Bryallyn sighed and patiently waited for her friend to finish her telling. Once she was certain the minstrel was through and was listening, Bryallyn asked quietly, "Leli, what is that you wear around your neck?" She saw the surprise enter the woman's eyes, but she waited for a response.

"My … my medallion? It's called the Seeker's Circle. Why?"

Bryallyn nodded and asked further, "Why do you wear that? What is it's purpose?"

Leliana shook her head in bemusement, unsure of where Bryallyn was leading their discussion. "What do you mean? Why would you -"

Patiently, Bryallyn reached out to pat Leliana's hand. "Humor me, please?"

With a sigh of resignation mixed with exasperation, Leliana agreed and returned, "It is in the shape of a wheel. This wheel represents the Maker's unending patience and Andraste's unquenchable passion. It is a reminder."

Bryallyn's smile widened. "It represents both the Maker _and_ Andraste then? It helps you focus your faith?"

"Well, … yes. But -!"

Bryallyn's smile held. "That is all Ser Perth is asking, Leli. The men just want something to wear, like your medallion, that reminds them that the Maker is watching over them. It's something to ease their minds, to help them focus and do what must be done … what the Maker wills …." Bryallyn was beginning to feel as if she was pouring it on a bit thick, but her words did seem to be breaking through to her friend. "Tell me … is it more important for the men to be focused on their fighting the enemy, or worrying about whether or not the Maker will be watching over them in their time of need?"

With a sigh, Leliana's frown faded somewhat, her eyes meeting Bry's. "I … see your point," she admitted reluctantly, "though I do think it is not the same thing."

Bryallyn chuckled. "I will take that under advisement. But, now that you understand … perhaps you can go speak with Revered Mother Hannah and see if she might release some of the amulets that Ser Perth has requested?"

Leliana gave Bryallyn a hard look, though there was a smile playing at her lips as she did so. "You will owe me a huge favor after this, I think," she teased, and then suddenly all of the harsh looks were gone and the minstrel's brilliant smile returned. "I am sending the Revered Mother to you if she gives me a difficult time about this!" she called back over her shoulder in a teasing manner as she departed.

"Nicely done," Teagan murmured as he returned. This time as he approached, he passed a mug of warm tea to Bryallyn. "Drink, Bryallyn. It's just tea."

Wearily, Bryallyn did so, eyeing him as she sipped. "My lord," she murmured only slightly accusingly, "one might think you were in league with my husband, the way you badger me." A moment later, she sighed in appreciation as the soothing taste of mint relaxed her.

Teagan's chuckle was deep. "Who is to say that I am not?" he offered gently in return. "I do recall speaking to him on a few occasions at your wedding."

Though there was a moment of sadness that washed through her at the memory, Bryallyn found that she could still smile as they discussed Nathaniel. When this was all over, she would take the time to talk to Teagan, tell him in more detail, no matter how difficult it was, what had happened. He deserved to know and he was proving to be a true friend. In the meantime, however …. "I should go out and see how things are progressing," she announced. Constant jumped to his feet once more and returned to her side having returned to the area near the table to curl up before Leliana's arrival. "Would you care to walk with me, Bann Teagan?"

Teagan paused for a long moment, his eyes surveying the scene around him. "Perhaps stepping outside might do some good," he agreed. Moving beside her, he tucked her arm around his and almost laughed aloud at the look that crossed her face. "You may be a soldier and even a Grey Warden," he told her as they began walking towards the doorway, "but you are also a lady and I will always treat you as such."

Bryallyn rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Truth be told, it was a nice, comfortable feeling, if a fleeting one, to have someone watching over her once more and taking charge.

They exited the Chantry and crossed the square so that they could get an update from Murdock. The mayor informed them of progress so far. Bryallyn's eyes widened just a bit as the man informed them of Sten's contribution. "He found some kegs of oil in the general store and asked for some of my boys to help him move it," Murdock explained. "Took all of it up there," he pointed towards the windmill, "where Ser Perth is planning on using it as a line of defense along the trail."

Bryallyn smiled. She was still trying to determine just how to communicate with the rather recalcitrant Qunari, though she could understand it to a point. But the fact that he was following her orders was proof of … something, at any rate. After a few more moments of discussion with Murdock, Bryallyn and Teagan left the man to his preparations and continued around the square.

When they reached a group of men taking target practice, Bryallyn glanced up at Teagan. "Do you mind if I take a few shots?" she asked.

Teagan's smile widened. "Please," he agreed easily as he stepped out of the way, Constant following him. As Bryallyn set her stance and pulled an arrow, _Wicked Grace_ rising over her head and settling into proper position, he added, "Did I ever mention that I was in attendance the day you and your husband had your impromptu match at the palace?"

Bryallyn chuckled as she took aim and drew back the bowstring. "You did not need to, Teagan," she replied as she released the missile. Immediately, she reached for another and launched it. Several more followed in quick succession. "I saw you as we were leaving that day."

As Bryallyn lowered her bow, Teagan stepped forward and moved to retrieve her arrows. Upon his return, he handed them over with a smile. "You and Nathaniel made archery look like a well-timed dance," he admitted. "I doubt I've ever met anyone else who is your equal."

Bryallyn reset her stance and her bow. With a soft laugh, she began shooting again. "Yes you have, Teagan," she murmured quietly. "My mother."

The Bann heard a soft hitch to Bryallyn's voice and winced. Stepping forward, he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Bry …."

Bryallyn lowered her bow, shook her head and stared at the ground for a long moment. "Not your fault," she whispered. She took a few deep breaths, attempting to release her inner turmoil as she did so. Now was not the time to grieve. There would be time for that later.

Sighing heavily, Bryallyn shouldered her bow as Teagan again retrieved her arrows. "I should head up to the tavern to meet up with Alistair," she announced, her eyes drifting up the hill in the direction of the establishment. "Who knows," she added, attempting to offer Teagan a full smile, "maybe one of us can convince Lloyd to come down and participate in the defense as well."

"If you can do that," Teagan returned as he escorted her towards the bridge near the waterfall, "then I would suggest putting Bella in charge of the tavern. Not only would it get that lazy lout out to do something productive for the entire community, but personally I think Bella is more than shrewd enough to run that place. In the end, I think the village might erect a memorial to you!"

Bryallyn laughed along with Teagan before they parted company for the time being. "Then I shall have to make that happen," she replied with a teasing grin. Before turning, she glanced up at Teagan and held his gaze for a long moment … and made a decision. "When this is over," she murmured, her hands moving to encompass their surroundings, "when things are safe once more … I'd like to talk to you in more depth, before I leave. I … I need to ask a favor …."

He must have sensed something, or perhaps he simply saw it in her eyes, she wasn't certain, but he lifted her hand and brushed his lips to her knuckles and promised her, "My lady, I will be at your disposal," before turning to follow his path back in the direction of the Chantry. Shaking her head slightly in amusement, Bryallyn turned and walked up the remainder of the hill towards the tavern. Apparently, she had some housekeeping chores to attend to.


	47. We Close Our Eyes

_Yes, the title is from the Go West song from back in the 1980's … what can I say? We had GREAT music in the 80's! :)_

_I don't think there is any more poignant cut scene in the game than the one in which we get a vague glimpse of several people lying on a table or cart in the prison at Ft. Drakon towards the latter part of the game. It is clear, even though the scene goes by quickly, that two of the individuals resemble Rory Gilmore and Mother Mallol. Whether this was intentional or not, my interpretation of the events is that it IS them. That being said, my muse has been chewing away at that scenario for months now. This chapter is my attempt to set up that cut scene. I do not intend to revisit these two characters further than I do here, though knowing my muse as I do that could change before I get to the end of the story. We all know how finicky muses can be!_

_Thanks to **VioletTheirin** and **Liso1966** for their invaluable assistance in recalling the arrangement of the basement/torture cells from Awakening. I've tried to keep the description below as accurate to that game as possible. Any errors are my own._

_Since this chapter will, most likely, be posted the day after the last (I've had this one written for months now), I will simply say thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as any who set alerts and favs. If any newcomers come along, I will gladly give you a shout out in my next chapter introduction! You ARE appreciated!_

_Thank you as always to my fabulous beta ladies: **MireliAmbar, StellaSmooth, VioletTheirin, Erynnar, Liso1966** and** mackillan**. Without you, I'd be so totally lost and most likely not doing this at all!_

_As always, Bioware owns all but what I created …..._

_**A/N:** Musical Inspiration: Given the comments above, this is a bit darker chapter, and therefore more difficult to find musical inspiration, but I do have a couple of songs: "I Wish I had an Angel" and "Over the Hills and Far Away," (cover) by Nightwish; "Run to the Hills" by Iron Maiden; and "Devil is a Loser" by Lordi. I'm sure there must have been others, but it's been a while since I wrote this … and I've slept a few times since then …. :P_

* * *

_If Father ever finds out I'm down here …._

Delilah Howe moved deeper into the shadows as she heard yet another set of footsteps nearing her current location. She remained thus for the next few, long moments until she was well sure that the patrol had moved well past her location. This had been the third patrol to come upon her since she entered the basement not a half hour before … which made absolutely no sense to her. Why would her father have men patrolling the basement of all places? The dungeon was one thing, but the basement? This was a storage area! Was he afraid someone would steal the family's belongings kept here? The winter stores? Old, unused furniture?

This was but one fact among many smaller ones that Delilah had begun to notice of late, none of which made any sense to her whatsoever, and yet they were continuously eating away at her at night when she slept. In the weeks since her father's return from Highever and then his subsequent and almost immediate departure for Denerim, Delilah had noticed countless small details that, standing alone, seemed to indicate nothing out of the ordinary. But, her brain would not allow it to be. Each time she spotted something new, it was added into the collection with the others. Things such as her father's return from Highever instead of going on to Ostagar as he had originally planned. Absolutely no mention of her brother Nathaniel or Bryallyn or Devlyn even. Not _anyone_ from Highever for that matter. Then there were the troops coming in and out of the Keep's grounds constantly over the following weeks at all hours of the day and her father specifically ordering her and her mother to remain inside the Vigil at all times ….

_Father is up to something_, she thought as she spotted a doorway ahead of her. One she did not recall having seen before. Frowning just a bit, she tried to recall her last visit to the basement years before and why she did not remember this door. _And I am terribly afraid it can mean nothing good._

While her older brother had managed to teach her some of the ways of stealth over the years (something she was able to get away with in a manner such that her father had never noticed), the whole idea of picking locks, unfortunately, had never taken hold with her. She was too noisy, her hands couldn't maneuver the tools correctly … whatever the reason, Delilah hoped that she would not have to rely upon those unlearned skills now, otherwise she would be going no further. Approaching quickly and quietly, she released a soft sigh of relief when she reached out and the handle gave way. Through the door and down the steps, she remained under cover of the shadows ….

_Thank the Maker for the shadows! _ As Delilah turned at the bottom of the stairs, she found herself entering a relatively open room. Across the way was another door, presumably leading to another even lower level. To the left was the door to the family crypt. She had never been down this deep in here before, but she had overheard her parents speak of it once or twice. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary for such a place, though, … except for the two large cells on the far side of the room wedged into the space near the doorway leading lower. That there were prison cells in this place was bad enough, she thought, but that they were clearly meant for other things ….

Edging her way further into the room, Delilah noticed yet more evidence to add to her growing collection. Some few prisoners were in these cells, and it was clear that they had not been well kept as their moans and groans of pain and fear were enough to send chills up her spine. Remaining along the wall, Delilah finally neared the first of the two cells. There were several people inside, but all seemed to be unconscious save one who was facing out of the bars and towards the other cell while whispering back and forth with someone there in a clearly desperate manner. Frowning, Delilah began to move around the edge of the cell, her eyes upon the man and then darting across the way but she could not make out with whom he was speaking. It wasn't until she neared the path between the cells that she got a good glimpse of the man … and recognized him.

"Ser Roland!" Delilah gasped in horror and in the process gave away her location.

She watched him struggle to turn, his movements slow and awkward, almost jerky in their manner. "Who …?" He narrowed his eyes in her direction and she knew the moment he spotted her because his eyes widened. "Miss … Delilah?"

Delilah swallowed and stepped forward then. Her hands grasping the bars between them, she knelt down until she was at his level and asked, "What has happened? Why are you here? Why are you not at Highever?" Delilah darted her eyes across the way and noticed now the robes of a Chantry priest. Her eyes trailing over the form, she recognized the face of Mother Mallol from her brother's wedding only weeks before. "Mother Mallol?" Turning back to Rory, Delilah demanded, "What is going on?"

The knight of Highever had definitely seen better days, Delilah realized. His face was a mass of bruises and swollen areas, his left arm appeared bent at an odd angle, and she noticed the wince he tried to hide from her as he shifted position. His armor was gone and he was dressed only in rags that she supposed were once a tunic and trousers and she could see that he had lost a great deal of weight since she had last seen him … how many weeks ago was it now? At least eight or nine, wasn't it? How could someone change so drastically in such a short amount of time unless they were ….

"My lady," Rory's voice was a harsh rasp as he spoke, but the urgency was clear, "you must leave. Get out before someone finds you here. This is no place for -"

Delilah shook her head. "What has happened, Ser Roland? Last I saw you was at my brother's wedding!"

"My lady -"

Delilah rose and crossed over to Mother Mallol. "Mother, please!" Delilah begged. "What has happened? Why are you here?" _Why does none of this make any sense?_

The priestess managed to move beside the bars to reach out towards Delilah. "Child," her soothing voice came, though now filled with obvious pain, "do you remember your verses?"

Delilah was a bit confused by the woman changing the subject so abruptly, but she nodded obediently. As she did so, she felt Mallol's hand touch hers and she automatically turned it, feeling something cool dropped into her palm. Mallol rolled Delilah's fingers back over the item, closing her hand so that it would not fall out. "Remember, 'The one who repents, who has faith, Unshaken by the darkness of the world, She shall know true peace.'" Delilah watched in horror and sadness as the woman before her seemed to suddenly collapse before her, her body sinking to the stone floor. At first, she feared that the woman had ceased breathing, but Delilah soon noticed that, while it seemed to be a bit of a struggle, Mallol's chest was still moving up and down. Concern growing, Delilah rose and returned to speak with Rory Gilmore.

"Ser Roland, please!" she begged. "Tell me what has happened! Why are you here? Is my brother alright? And Bryallyn? What of the others?" Delilah knew without a doubt that Bryce and Eleanor could not know that these people were here or they would surely have done something to see them set free.

There was more hesitation, but Delilah finally heard Rory begin speaking. "Betrayal," he rasped. "We were set upon, during the night." Another pause as if he was struggling to find a way to say what he meant. "So many … lost …."

Delilah frowned. "Who? Who attacked you?"

"The great bear himself …."

_The great bear himself?_ _That doesn't make any sense at all._

Rising to her feet, Delilah began searching around the room for the key to the doors, but could find none. Recalling the coldness of the item Mallol had given her and wondering if it might be a key (though how the woman would have gotten one to their cages Delilah did not know), she glanced down … but found something else entirely. With a gasp of recognition, she heard herself groan, "Oh no!" Rushing back over to Rory's side, Delilah asked, an urgency to her voice, "Ser Roland, I must know! What happened at Highever? Where are the Teyrn and Teyrna?" Lifting the item in her hand, she held it between her thumb and forefinger so Rory could see it. "Why did your priest just give me the Teyrna's marriage ring?"

Delilah noticed a mask of pain, this time unassociated with his injuries, as it slipped into place. "No!" she whispered as she interpreted his reaction to mean the worst had occurred.

Rory nodded then, reluctantly. "You must go," he insisted once more. "You are not safe here."

Shocked at what she thought she was being told, Delilah could do nothing but stand there, staring at the ring in her hand. Teyrna Eleanor had shown it to her and Bryallyn when they were young girls, telling them both that she and her husband had promised to wear them unto death. Closing her fist around the ring, Delilah swiped away tears that threatened. If she had the ring now, if Mother Mallol had given it to her, that had to mean Eleanor was dead. Rory's reaction seemed to reinforce that conclusion as well. "I … I need to find a way to release you," she told him in response to his comments. "This isn't right … I don't know what has happened, but this isn't right!"

A sound on the steps behind her startled Delilah and caused her to realize her predicament. She had spoken too loudly, her voice had alerted one of the guards who was now descending into the room and she could not slip back into the shadows fast enough. "Go!" Rory hissed through his pain, nodding his head towards another area that was darker. "I will distract -"

"Miss Delilah?"

Delilah's breath caught as she recognized the voice. "Varel?" Could she have been so lucky to have this man be the guard to find her? Stepping forward, she approached him and sighed in relief. It was him!

"My lady, you must leave here," he insisted as he reached out to escort her from the room. For just a moment, she saw him look beyond her, over her shoulder, and she thought he might be exchanging a look with Rory. But in a blink of an eye, the look was gone and he was insistently guiding her up the stairs. "I will not ask you why you are here," he told her in a low voice, "or even how you became aware of this place. Just know that there are some things you would be much safer not knowing."

Delilah nodded. Apparently, he too was aware of the place and the reason behind it. "Can anything be done for them?" she dared ask in a whispered voice.

"What can be done has been done," he assured her, though Delilah was not certain it made her feel any better than when she had not known.

They ceased talking moments later and Varel pulled her into a shadowed area as a patrol walked by, his intent to keep her safe made quite clear by his actions. It was as this patrol walked past that something clicked into place for her. The light from one of the wall sconces glinted off one of the guards' shields and Delilah caught sight of the heraldic device … the bear of Amaranthine. _The great bear himself …._ She inhaled sharply, her hand tightening on Varel's arm as she turned to look up at him. The guards continued on but Delilah whispered, "The 'great bear'? My … my father?" Varel nodded, the look on his face remaining as neutral as he could manage it.

_Oh Maker … Father what have you done?_

Moments later, Delilah exited the building and separated from Varel, assuring him that she would be fine and thanking him for his concern. Instead of returning to her rooms, however, which was where she had promised Varel she would go, she instead went in search of Ceila. The one person at the Keep in whom Delilah had no doubts about placing her complete trust. She knocked first before entering, but once inside the room and assured that she was alone, Delilah began telling Ceila the story and of plans that were rapidly falling into place.


	48. Fading Hope

_I sat down shortly after writing the last chapter to start on this one … and hit a totally blank wall. This surprised me, as that usually only occurs with chapters that have major turning points. This one, as you'll see below, while filled with important content isn't necessarily a 'major turning point.' At first I thought it was because one of my other stories that I had not touched for over nine months started pulling at me, but once I'd updated that one I still had the blank. I must thank Naomi8329 and her review for pulling the sheet from atop my head and getting my muse peeking out and going once more! (Oh, and my husband who was in the middle of a city elf origin game and just at the right spot to rerun part of this for me so I could refresh myself as to the game content!)_

_Thank you all who have read, reviewed and those who are lurking, as well as those setting favorites and alerts including: Naomi8329, Erynnar, RavennaL, b5anon, Loecy, Evaynne, Lillie Cullen, Alissa Cousland, Nightingale Heartz, Cheggcurse, BlackCat9288, JayBetti, Letticiae, Demon-dragoness, yukimoda, Anna Sheridan, rqts, horselover90, cbred13, Kamiki Maki, xkelbix, emilymarie0201, Taisenokami and Prose Princess. Your words and your interest are greatly appreciated._

_Thank you to my wonderfully patient and thorough betas without whom I would not get this far: **Erynnar, MireliAmbar, Stella Smooth, mackillan** and **VioletTheirin**. Special shoutouts this time to **VioletTheirin** and **Stella Smooth** for their assistance in finding some specific dialogue references used below! Thank you so much, my friends, for all of your help and support with this particular chapter as well as the entire story!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N:** Musical Inspiration: Well, let's see … Hooked on listening to Pendulum lately … "Watercolour," "Under the Waves," and "The Island Pt. 1: Dawn" mostly. And, in honor of her winning all her nominations, Adele! ANY of the songs she has! :D _

* * *

"Maker's breath!" Bryallyn gasped as she took a quick peek around the edge of the door frame to check the hall before them. "Will we _never_ get past these things?" She had been doing her level best to ignore the horror of having to confront the skeletal remains of people that had lived and worked in the castle, but with each group it was becoming increasingly difficult. Moments later, Bryallyn gestured her companions out into the hall satisfied that the coast was clear for the moment.

"We must be close," Leliana murmured from nearby. "We should be nearing the great hall, I would think."

Bryallyn glanced around but did not see the Orlesian before her. _Using the shadows again, are you? Perhaps we should put that to use._ "Leli," she whispered just loud enough, "can you find out what lies between here and there?"

"_Une moment, mon capitaine!"_

Despite the seriousness of their current situation, Bryallyn chuckled softly. Leliana had a way of easing tension, that much was certain. Though she could not see the minstrel moving forward, Bryallyn trusted her enough to accept that she was fulfilling the request. Taking slow steps forward herself, Bry signaled the others to follow close behind. With Leliana remaining in the shadows, the responsibility to make certain the floor was clear of undead would fall to them.

"Do you really believe the blood mage?"

Bryallyn bit the inner corner of her lip and remained silent. Alistair's hesitant question was a good one. _Just what do I believe?_ she mused silently. They continued down the hall, securing each room they passed. The process was slow, or perhaps it only seemed that way because they were securing so many rooms before Leliana returned. Finally, as they prepared to round a corner, Bryallyn found herself replying, "Which part? That Loghain hired him to poison Arl Eamon? That Connor is a mage? That Lady Isolde could be so secretive and hire a blood mage to tutor her son and then get away with it?" She didn't mean to come across as sounding harsh, but even she heard the edge to her voice. She was not certain which part bothered her more, that Loghain would be so bold as to try to have a respected Arl assassinated or that a mother would try to hide the condition of her son, one that was clearly dangerous to others in the area.

Alistair's snort was one of amused disgust. "Heh. All of it, I suppose," he clarified. "Though, … nope," he broke in, cutting his own comment off as more of the undead creatures chose that moment to make their presence known, "never mind."

Bryallyn waited as the others moved quickly into position. The only real benefit that she could see from this venture (as things stood at the moment) was that they were gaining valuable experience working together as a team. _Always look for something positive,_ she remembered her father saying when she was younger. It was a lesson he had drilled into her and Fergus both. _Positive reinforcement does more to help than negative._

When once again the way before them was clear, Bryallyn walked over to Alistair. "You were saying?" she murmured quietly, a slight smirk at her lips. Alistair chuckled softly, but remained silent. What else was there to say?

"Mon capitaine!"

Bry nearly jumped as Leliana suddenly appeared beside her from the shadows. Hand rising to cover the area of her heart, she breathed, "Maker's arse, Leli!" The only response the minstrel gave was a soft giggle. "Alright, what did you find out?"

Leliana explained that they had little distance left to cover. "I found Lady Isolde, Bann Teagan and a child whom I presume to be Connor in the main hall. We've just a short way to go."

Bryallyn nodded and gestured the others to follow. The only other instance of resistance came in the main courtyard as they tried to re-enter the castle from the main gates, but this time they had the assistance from Ser Perth and his men who had been waiting on the gates to be opened for them. Once they had defeated their opponents, Ser Perth assured her that they would guard the gates from further encroachment. Only then did Bryallyn lead her group up the steps and into the hall. It was time to find out exactly what was going on.

* * *

Teagan had to admit, though it was after Bryallyn and her selected companions had left, that the experience with Connor had left him shaken. Not in a physical sense so much as a mental and emotional one. He would, he promised to himself, admit to Bryallyn upon her return that she had been correct in her suggestion that he not return to the castle with Isolde. Yet, what else could have been done?

Night had fallen by the time he managed to make his way to the battlements so that he could look out over Lake Calenhad to the north. _Maker watch over you, my friend_, he thought for the umpteenth time as he gazed in the direction her ship had taken. The party had been gone four nights and so far things at Redcliffe had remained quiet. Before Bryallyn's departure, Connor had been located in his rooms within the castle, and while seemingly himself at the time, the decision had been made to magically seal the room and keep the boy, and therefore the demon, contained. Since that time, both the Qunari and the witch had taken up station outside of the room per Bryallyn's orders and kept vigil.

Teagan now found that he could not help but wonder how Bryallyn fared at the Tower. There was a part of him, if he was to be completely honest with himself, that wanted to be out there, actively looking for the answers needed to save his nephew and his brother. The warrior in him was screaming that some sort of action needed to be taken, that he needed to be involved. And yet, another side, the Bann, understood that there were times when allowing others to do the work for you was best. Practically, someone needed to be in charge of the arling while his brother remained ill. Eamon's seneschal could make the daily decisions, of course, but Redcliffe had been in the family for generations. The people needed to _see_ a Guerrin in charge, and Isolde had more than proved that she was not the one to do so.

Sighing heavily, Teagan turned to wander along the battlements. And so he had allowed a dear friend, a woman who had to be suffering at least as much as he if not more, to go off and fight his battles. Pausing again, Teagan snorted softly. _Allowed? Bryce, my friend, your daughter is just as stubborn and insistent as you used to be._ But … despite her insistence that she and her friends head to the Tower to seek the mages' assistance, Teagan had noticed a certain level of anxiety in Bryallyn. Maker knew she had had the world dumped on her young shoulders. First losing her family, including her husband of such a short time. And then, on top of that, losing the Wardens at Ostagar. Teagan had noticed the difference that being a Warden had made for Alistair. There were differences there that he could not quite put into words. He found himself wondering if Bryallyn might find some sort of respite from her joining the group, though he had to admit that this might be more difficult with her and Alistair being the only remaining Wardens in Ferelden. Perhaps he ought to offer to try to make contact for them?

Glancing up, Teagan noticed a star trailing across the sky. He recalled a saying from when he was a child, something about making a wish on a shooting star and it would come true. Closing his eyes, he made a wish and then opened his eyes once more before turning to head down, the wish ringing through his mind as he walked: _Keep them safe …._


	49. Where To Next?

_First, I would like to thank you all for hanging in there with me. Real life has been a pain as of late, but I keep on muddling through. And then there's everyone's favorite broody rogue … who has decided to make my life difficult by becoming somewhat broody … with hints that it will only get worse. *sighs* Well, he wouldn't be Nathaniel if he wasn't broody, would he? At any rate, he FINALLY started talking to me late last week …_

_Thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked as well as those setting favs and alerts. I've seen quite a few come through in the past few weeks, and for that I will be forever grateful! Thank you to: bananamonkey86, Alexandria Damaskinos, Gothic Paranormal Author, Draygonne61, shadowninja-yuna, ashevre, FayeArrowwood98, Selena Khrystafur, Asrai Devin, lynn-writer, Arkristic, misswayne, ReflctngGoddess, LunaMoth116, Fictional Men Have Ruined Me, naomi8329, Lillie Cullen, fifespice, Erynnar and ProsePrincess._

_Thanks as always to my wonderfully fabulous betas: **VioletTheirin **(and the new little miss to help out!), **MireliAmbar, Erynnar, StellaSmooth **and **Liso1966**. Without you ladies I would be at a total loss and pulling out my hair by the roots, I just know it!_

_**A/N:** Musical Inspiration: Well, recently downloaded all of the hubby's tunes from the desktop (yay!) and the available tunes from which to select has increased by a TON. Some of the following were inspirations for this chapter: "You've Got Another Thing Coming," by Judas Priest; "Bury My Lovely," by October Project; "The Clock Ticks On," by Blackmore's Night; "Dust in the Wind," by Kansas and "Enter Sandman," by Metallica._

_As always, Bioware owns all but what I create …..._

* * *

Something in the way that Amras had described Loghain's persistent and near relentless hunt for the Wardens had rankled in Nathaniel's dreams during the night. Because of this, he had slept poorly: tossing, turning, thinking he heard voices bearing down on him and his troops, or half-imagining he saw Bryallyn calling to him or reaching out towards him frantically for assistance. Finally, unable to find any respite the longer it went on, Nathaniel rose in the pre-dawn hours and spent the remainder of the watch with those on guard.

After sparing what items they could and seeing Amras and his family off a short while after breaking their fast, complete with suggestions on two alternate destinations should they need them, Nathaniel gathered his people near the campfire and instructed them to break camp. "We head towards Lothering," he told them, his face a cold, stony mask now that the lack of sleep and weight of the dreams he had fought were settling upon him. The only good thing to come out of all of this entire situation was the fact that they now had a definite destination towards which to head.

The trip became long and arduous, given the constant need to keep off the main highway, but thankfully the journey was uneventful. And, even though they remained off the main highway, they did see evidence of more refugees taking flight to the north. Nathaniel and his group did not actively seek contact, still mindful of the possibility of either Loghain's men, or Howe's finding out of their existence and their purpose. They had come much too far to risk losing all now. Yet, as the days multiplied, their journey became routine … almost too routine, and that began to worry Nathaniel as well.

Finally, they came within sight of Lothering. They stopped outside of town, a high point just to the northeast of the town providing an outlook of sorts. Nathaniel led the others to the edge so that they could look down on the scene before them in order to determine just what the situation was before they entered the town. From Amras' description and now visual confirmation, they could see that the village was overrun by refugees, chaos still reigning even though the Wardens presence had mitigated it somewhat by convincing some to leave. They also knew from Amras that available resources were at a minimum. If there was a chance that their arrival would only add to the turmoil, Nathaniel would not take his people into the village proper.

As he scanned the horizon, Nathaniel noted that the sun was on the wane and realized that they would soon need to find shelter for the evening. He glanced over at Rhyan beside him, about to ask her thoughts, when another voice spoke instead. "There." Gryffyd's voice was soft, his movements slow, but he signaled to a point just south of the town.

Nathaniel allowed his gaze to follow … and it took every effort he could muster to keep the panic from rising within himself. "Darkspawn," he murmured. It had been a statement, not a question, but Gryffyd nodded in return, as did Grayson. "Or at least their vile corruption," Grayson clarified quickly. With the lengthening and darkening shadows of the day it was difficult to tell for certain. "And if their taint is spreading that far north of Ostagar, that close to Lothering, they cannot be far behind." He did not have to voice the obvious fact that it reinforced the rumors they had heard of the king and his army having been defeated at Ostagar.

Silence fell upon the group then and they continued to observe the area. The number of refugees that could be seen was staggering; people who would have no hope of survival if they did not receive assistance and leave as soon as possible … and yet, what could be done? From what they had been told by Amras, those who had means and had been able had already fled. Those who remained either could not or would not leave. Nathaniel felt himself with a dilemma. Did they take the time to try to convince the people otherwise and risk being found - by Loghain, Howe or worse, darkspawn - or did they cut the inevitable losses and just move on? Which led to another question: Surely there had to be troops that survived the battle at Ostagar - the king's, Teyrn Cousland's, other nobles - didn't there? Should they focus on finding any surviving troops, retreating to a safer location and and then rebuilding the army instead of helping Lothering? If that was the case, then the attack against the darkspawn could be led once more ...

A hand on his arm brought Nathaniel and his wavering thoughts back to the present. Turning his head, he found Rhyan giving him a consoling look. "We cannot," she murmured.

Nathaniel's eyes closed for a moment, he felt a shudder work through him as he thought of all the innocents below. It went against his nature to leave them without at least offering assistance. "Rhy -"

"My lord, we have no means to aid them in time," Trinion spoke up from Rhyan's other side. "Even if we had a hundred carts and oxen or horses or any other sort of transportation … they are out of time."

Nathaniel swallowed hard, another shudder working its way through as the battle within him raged on. Rising to his feet, Nathaniel turned away from the edge of the hillside. The decision was already made. Rhyan and Trinion were correct, Nathaniel knew that. That was why they both were acting as his seconds. But just because they were right did not mean he had to like it.

Rhyan watched Nathaniel walk away as she rose to her feet. "Where to then?" she murmured as Trinion joined her a moment later. A glance over her shoulder informed her that Gryffyd and Grayson were still evaluating the situation to the south. Just as well that they knew what they might be facing and how soon, she thought.

Trinion sighed heavily. "We have a few options," he admitted, "though I doubt he will like the choices any better than this one. For the moment, however, we need to make camp for the night."

* * *

They established camp outside of Lothering and to the northwest near the edge of one of the feeder lakes that bled out from Lake Calenhad. Nathaniel tried to busy himself with work - finding wood for the fire, helping set up tents, assisting with hunting for food and other dinner preparations. Anything to keep him physically and mentally occupied so he would not dwell on the consequences of the decision that had been made. Both Rhyan and Trinion attempted to engage him in conversation, to try and determine their next course of action, but he was not ready for that. He was too focused on the impending destruction around them at the moment … and the many innocent victims who would inevitably suffer.

Rhyan, after watching him pace about for most of the night, finally could take it no longer. When Nathaniel rose from the fire after their evening meal, muttering something about taking the first watch, she rose to follow him. She caught Trinion's eye as she did so and nodded when he too, rose to follow. Perhaps between the two of them they could reach Nathaniel.

To be honest, Nathaniel had been expecting this 'ambush.' He would have been disappointed if it had not happened, actually. Turning to face Rhyan and Trinion, he remained silent until they were near. For a long moment, no one said a word, the only sounds to be heard coming from the ever darkening night around them. When finally the silence was broken, it was Rhyan who spoke first. "Nate -"

Nathaniel lifted his hand to silence her. "Don't," he insisted. His voice came out a bit harsh, but he supposed that was due to the frustration he was feeling at a situation that was no longer within his control. "I know what you would say, Rhy," he glanced at Trinion then, "and you, Trinion, but it's not necessary. You both are right - to remain and try to help with the folk in Lothering at this point would be pointless and could well result in our own deaths." He paused for a moment, waiting to see if they would say anything in return, and when no comments were issued forth, he continued. "So the question that remains is, where do we go next?"

Rhyan and Trinion exchanged a knowing look, Nathaniel saw, which indicated to him that they had thoughts on this. Again, it was Rhyan who spoke up. "Well, we had some suggestions about that."

Nathaniel could not refrain from smirking slightly, her comment actually easing some of his earlier gloom. "When have you never had suggestions on anything, Rhy?" he teased lightly in a way he had not since their years together as squires. When Rhyan punched his arm in retaliation, Nathaniel chuckled and gave Trinion a tolerant grin. Trinion, to his credit, said nothing … but Nathaniel thought he spotted a bit of a twinkle in the man's eye. Turning back to Rhyan, Nathaniel attempted to swallow back yet another chuckle when he saw the look of irritation and anger in her eyes. When squiring in the Free Marches, she had been nicknamed 'Spitfire' for a reason. That reason was about to make itself known if he did not react quickly.

Expecting her second hit in retaliation for his amusement, Nathaniel caught her wrist in his hand before her fist made contact. "Now, Rhy, calm down," he told her. "Do you want to hear my thoughts or not?" To her credit she remained silent, though Rhyan did yank her arm from his grasp. "Right then," he began. "The way I see it is we have two options. The first is to head east, ahead of the darkspawn, and go towards Denerim." Nathaniel would prefer to stay away from that part of the country for the moment. It would bring him closer to his father and, though he knew his father to be in the wrong and needing to be brought to justice, Nathaniel was not certain he could face his sire just yet. Not when the fate of his wife remained undetermined.

"The second option would be to travel west. I suspect," and here he glanced directly at Trinion for confirmation, "that any Highever troops surviving Ostagar would have returned this way." Trinion's nod confirmed Nathaniel's thoughts. They had not come across any, or heard of any on their journey south along the eastern side of Lake Calenhad. That only left the western route. If they could catch up with them, assuming there were any, and enlist their assistance ….

The silence returned then as each kept his or her own counsel for a time. Again, it was Rhyan who broke it. "What is your choice?" she asked.

_Some things never change,_ Nathaniel thought as he prepared his answer. _Rhyan always did want me to speak my mind first._ "I say west. If we can find any survivors, we might be able to enlist their aid." Trinion remained silent, his attention focused on his two companions.

Rhyan simply frowned. She understood Nathaniel's argument well enough, but she also knew she tended to be a bit more emotional in her reactions. Her gut instinct was screaming that they head towards Denerim. Top priority should be to seek out Rendon Howe and make him pay. As she debated within herself, she glanced at Nathaniel and found him giving her a patient look. _He knows what I'm thinking_, she thought. _He knows and he is giving me a chance to object …._

Trinion broke in then, his voice low but firm. "I would offer up a slight variation to your suggestion, my lord."

Nathaniel was startled. Staring at the man for a moment, he wondered what he could possibly have forgotten to take into account, for certainly he had if Trinion had yet another option available. Nathaniel had been thinking this out all evening. "Continue, please," he agreed.

"I believe we should begin at Ostagar, my lord," Trinion explained. "I realize this will take us into the heart of the darkspawn territory, and that we may well not be able to reach the location. However, Ostagar is the last confirmed location of Lord Fergus and Highever's troops. Do you not think we should begin there? Search for any clues that might remain? See if there is not some indication on where any survivors might have headed if there were any?"

Nathaniel glanced over at Rhyan and she at him. Into the heart of darkspawn territory. The words were enough to chill even the most hardened of soldier's heart at the thought. But Trinion's plan made sense, and if it did provide them with a more specific course of action, then it would be worth it. But, it would be a great risk. The king's army had been defeated, Loghain's men or no, and that would be no small task. Did they take that chance? And even if they did get in and out of Ostagar without encountering any darkspawn, there was still the question as to whether or not it would provide them with any information or clues at all, or simply needlessly put all of them at risk.

"Ostagar it is then," Rhyan finally told them quietly before turning away to return to camp. "Trinion's right - if we're going to do this, we need to do it right. I just hope you know what you're doing," she tossed over her shoulder. Nathaniel, by Rhyan's words and tone of voice, understood that she was giving him a vote of confidence in his leadership skills, a caution against poor judgement and an implied warning that she would take over if she felt that he was taking them down the wrong path.

After her departure, Nathaniel ran a hand over his face and sighed. She had surprised him to some degree by not arguing with him about heading towards Denerim, though he did suspect she realized he knew damned well the position he had put her in. Glancing over at Trinion after a moment, Nathaniel smiled. "Thank you, my friend. You are right that we should start where they were last known to be."

Trinion simply nodded politely in acknowledgement. "That is why I am here, is it not, my lord? I am thankful you would consider finding our troops as a viable option, especially given that we both know the chances of us finding many if any survivors is minimal."

Nathaniel grunted softly in agreement. "I realize that, Trinion," he admitted. "But I also know that if we are to face my father, we will need more than our current numbers to do so." Nathaniel knew that ultimately it would be him against his father, but the more physical support he had at the time and in his presence, the better he would feel. Sighing softly, Nathaniel began to feel the full weight of the situation beginning to hit him. That confrontation would not be a pretty sight.

Trinion, realizing the conversation was over, began to take his leave. "I will make sure the watch is set for the evening, my lord. Be sure you take some rest when you are through." He would enlist Grayson or one of the others if necessary to make certain this was done.

Nathaniel smiled wryly. "I will," he agreed. "In the meantime, if you would work up a likely route that the men would have followed from Ostagar to Highever, it might help us to speed the process along." _Assuming we find anything in Ostagar._ "If necessary, we can make any alterations based on what we find there."

Trinion nodded. Grayson had some maps he could use to do this. "I would also suggest we head towards Rainesfere, my lord. Because of the close friendship between the Teyrn and the Bann, all Highever troops know to head in that direction if they are in need. Bann Teagan has an open door policy to assist Highever."

Nathaniel nodded. "Fergus and the Teyrn both told me as much," he replied. As Trinion then turned to leave, Nathaniel added again, "Thank you." Trinion did not even pause in his motion as he left, though Nathaniel had caught a glance of a smile at his lips. As he began patrolling the perimeter of the camp, Nathaniel began to reflect just how lucky he was in the men, and women, he had with him. He had been very fortunate indeed.


	50. Hope Restored

Alright … let me try to explain this a bit before we begin. I've always had a bit of a problem with the whole Fade/Dream sequence in the Tower quest in game. The stories for the companions made sense enough, but the Warden's didn't. Not to me, anyway. Sure, a willing recruit to the Wardens I can easily see meeting up with Duncan (though, Weisshaupt? As I recall, the only real conversation you have regarding with Weisshaupt is with Alistair), but what if you are a reluctant Warden? One that was conscripted? One who has nothing but anger towards Duncan for making you become one? This dream sequence just doesn't work to my way of thinking.

SO … even though Bryallyn was willing enough in the end to become a Warden, I decided to expand this sequence a bit. Not only does it make more sense all around (I think) but it also pulls some elements of the story together better. This being said, below is the result. I tried to keep it within the parameters set by the other companions' dream sequences and the Fade. I hope it works! Please feel free to let me know what you think.

Thanks again to all who read, reviewed and lurked along with me! Your interest amazes and delights me! Also, thank you to those who have set alerts and favs along the way. I promise you, I am in this for the long haul, even though I may have longer breaks between chapters sometimes! This time around huge thanks to ProsePrincess, AgentOfCookies, nickelkeep, Innovia-FHS and naomis8329!

Huge hugs and thanks to my fabulous betas! I would be so lost without them! They are also wonderful writers in their own rights, so please go and check out their stories if you have not already! I think you will enjoy them all! **VioletTheirin, MireliAmbar, Erynnar, StellaSmooth **and** Liso1966**.

****ACK! I got so excited about posting chapter 48 I totally forgot to mention and promote one of my favorite stories out there that I'm following! *facepalms* If you've not gone to check out **Shades of Grey** by **ProsePrincess** please do! It's a wonderful story with her female Cousland Warden set in the Awakenings arc!

**A/N:** Musical Inspiration: In keeping with the theme of this chapter, I can't not recommend "Dream Police" by Cheap Trick this time as well as "Wildest Dreams" by Asia, and "Castles and Dreams" by Blackmore's Night. (I'm just quirky that way!)

As always, Bioware owns all but what I made up …...

* * *

_Wherever it was she had been, Duncan was now gone. And so were those who had stood by his side. Wardens, she supposed, as Duncan had assured her they were at Weisshaupt. But why they had drawn on her, she was not certain. She seemed to recall that there had been another purpose, something more that needed doing, but that urgency seemed to have faded now that the threat was past. So what to do next but move on …._

_Before leaving the immediate area, however, Bryallyn double checked it first making certain she had defeated all opponents. Everything appeared clear. Once satisfied and certain that no more threats remained, she cautiously began making her way through the halls, searching for a way out of the building. Weisshaupt was an unknown place, however, and at first she felt lost, uncertain of her whereabouts, or turned around at the very least …_

_... but after a time she came to realize exactly where she was: home. More specifically, the corridors of Castle Cousland. Directly before her lay the library. Around the corner, the passage leading to the private living quarters. As she continued on, Bryallyn wondered if she would find Fergus in his rooms, reading a book to Oren as Oriana sat nearby smiling and sewing. Or maybe he would be teaching Oren a new song? Bryallyn stifled an amused giggle though she felt her heart jump slightly at the thought. That would be a sight to see. Bryallyn could sneak into the room and listen for just a bit - long enough to gain ammunition to use against her sibling later - and then offer to take Oren off and teach him how to use a sword (or at least one of her daggers) and …._

_But when she arrived at the doorway to her brother's room, she found it open before her. Inside, instead of reading to a young Oren, she observed Fergus wrestling with his older son on the floor while Oriana sat nearby … a baby in her arms. _

_Bryallyn felt a soft gasp pass her lips then. A baby? But when …? Fergus and Oriana had always wanted more children, Bryallyn knew this. Twice, they had thought they would be successful only to find out that they were not. Bryallyn had spent both of those nights with the couple, offering her condolences, encouraging them not to give up. How was it that she had missed this then? Why would they have hidden this from her?_

_Bryallyn turned away from the room, ignoring the niggling bit of hurt at the thought of Fergus and Oriana hiding such important news from her, but then she noticed the door to her own room lay ajar. Before she moved, though, she dropped a hand to her slightly swollen tummy, offering a gentle caress and a smile for the child there. THIS she was certain of and she found comfort there in the knowledge. The pain eased a bit._

"_Bry," she heard a voice call softly, carefully as if it didn't want to alert someone to its presence. Her eyes lifting to look over at the doorway before her once more, Bryallyn cautiously made her way over and pushed against the barricade. It took a moment's effort, eventually opening silently, almost reluctantly, but finally just enough for her to slip inside. _

_Glancing around the room, Bryallyn noted a few changes from what she was used to, but for the most part it remained the same, right down to Constant curled up beside the fire in the hearth. Bryallyn could not hold back a grin at the sight. One of the most noticeable differences she did find, however, was that she was not alone in the room. While she had expected Nathaniel to be there, and indeed he had been the voice to call to her, she was startled to find him dressed in full armor. Cousland armor. Glancing down at her own clothing, Bryallyn smoothed her hand over the fabric of her dress, no sense of urgency pressing her to change into her leathers nagging at her at all. Was there some sort of a threat of which she was unaware? Why was she not responding to that need?_

_Stepping forward, Bryallyn reached a hand out to touch Nathaniel's arm. It felt solid enough. She could feel the texture of the leather beneath her calloused fingertips, hear the natural squeak of her fingers as they trailed along the reinforced leather. As her eyes surveyed him, taking in his appearance almost desperately as if she had gone a long while without a drink and was dying of thirst, she smiled up at him. Lifting a hand, she placed it palm down over the Cousland laurels on his shoulder pauldron. He sported the colors and the crest well, she thought. "Have you just come from the training yard, my love?" she asked, moving to assist him with removing the armor. "If you like I can ask Nan to send up a meal. You must be starving."_

* * *

Nathaniel crawled into his tent after his watch shift, suddenly so weary that the thought of removing his armor was even too much. He managed to secure the opening, but not much else, before he dropped onto his bedroll and just collapsed. He barely felt his head touch before drifting off into a deep sleep. ….

* * *

_The moment his surroundings turned sort of fuzzed and hazy, Nathaniel realized he'd entered the Fade. Surprised that it had occurred so quickly, Nathaniel nonetheless was nearly certain of his location. At least, he understood that he was in the Fade; beyond that he had no idea where exactly he was. He decided to walk around for a bit, investigating, trying to locate something familiar, but it seemed to take a long time before anything even remotely began to do so … until he walked through the atrium in the hall leading to the family quarters in Castle Cousland. Now this was something familiar …._

_He noticed almost immediately that something was off, however. Frowning slightly, Nathaniel continued on attempting to determine just what it was that was that seemed … off. He was only slightly surprised to find that the guard watch was not in its usual place. Was that what it was? And then, he heard somewhat familiar voices up ahead. Approaching cautiously, Nathaniel glanced into Fergus' room through the doorway and found the man and his family there, relaxed and at peace. He could not hold back a smile at this … until he remembered that this shouldn't be happening … should it?_

_Not wanting to intrude, just in case he was mis-remembering things (he was certain he wasn't, but erring on the side of caution was a good thing, was it not?), he turned towards Bryallyn's rooms instead. Entering, he found the room empty, save for a familiar furry lump curled up beside the fire sleeping. Constant. Chuckling, Nathaniel crossed over to pat the animal and give him a good scratch behind the ears. Though the hound did not wake, he did lean into Nathaniel's touch, making happy huffing noises at the contact._

_A short time later, Nathaniel heard the sounds of footsteps in the hall and he called out for his wife. The reaction was instinctual. Why, he was not fully certain. Blinking, he glanced around his surroundings once more. This is a dream, is it not? he asked himself. Yet, as time passed, he found it more and more difficult to pull himself from the drowsy acceptance that perhaps it was real. Was it the other place that was the dream? When Bryallyn finally entered the room a moment later, he could still feel a frown of consternation pulling at his features._

_He felt that tension ease, however, the moment her hand touched his arm. It was as if his entire body sighed in recognition. When she lifted her hand to his pauldron, he noticed that he was attired in Cousland armor. When had that happened? The Teyrn had talked about providing him with such, but he had not done before his …._

"_Have you just come from the training yard, my love? If you like I can ask Nan to send up a meal. You must be starving."_

_Bryallyn's voice was soft and gentle as she had always been. Lifting a hand to cradle her cheek, Nathaniel turned her face so their eyes could meet. "Bryallyn …."_

_He saw her smile widen, her other hand taking his and squeezing gently. "What is it you wish?"_

_Nathaniel felt his breath catch as she pulled his hand to her waist then. Surely this had to be a dream, he realized then. She pressed his hand over a gentle swell there, and he felt a resounding tug at his heart. Maker's breath, it HAD to be a dream. His eyes closing, for he understood deep inside that this was something he wanted with her … but that thanks to his father they would, most likely, never have. "Bryallyn, stop … this is a dream, love."_

* * *

_Bryallyn watched her husband's face closely as she pressed his hand close. Was he not pleased with her news? she wondered. They had not actually discussed their future in so many words, she knew this, but she had thought they were of the same mind. She vaguely remembered teasing him while on their wedding trip about her mother getting after him for grandchildren._

"_Bryallyn, stop … this is a dream, love."_

_She felt her hand fall away from his the moment the words passed his lips. A dream? This couldn't be a dream … she was certain it wasn't …._

"_Bryallyn -"_

"_No," she whispered, stepping back from him, his hand falling away as well. With the loss of contact, his denial of the situation still ringing in the air around her, she felt her head clear just a bit. "Nathaniel … what … why are you here?" she whispered. And then she wondered at her words. "What I mean is … if you are a dream … if this -" she spread her arms to indicate their surroundings, "if this is all a dream … why are you HERE?" For without a doubt, she knew his presence was real. It was like the times before … yet stronger?_

* * *

_Nathaniel felt an overwhelming sense of loss as she released him. As he began insisting she was dreaming, he quietly wondered at his persistence, realizing that this had a similar feel to the times before when they had met in the Fade. But … why? She had not called to him … he had not called to her …. There was no need … was there?_

_She asked why he was here and he searched for an explanation to give her. That the two of them were REAL at this point in time, that they were together, in whatever fiction their dreams had created, was not at doubt. And as he opened his mouth to answer, he caught a flash of light on her hand out of the corner of his eye. Frowning, he took her hand in his and lifted it, examining the ring he found there. The ring! Lifting his other hand, he looked at it as well and found it brighter than usual. "Bry …."_

_Her eyes seemed focused on their hands as well. "Nathaniel … the rings?" she whispered. "What was it you said when you gave me mine?"_

_"'The Tevinters would make these for couples to wear to show they were bound together forever; heart, mind, soul.'" he told her, repeating the words he had been told at the time he purchased the rings. _

_Silence dropped around them for a moment, like a cloak protecting them both from everything around them if only for a brief time. Lifting her eyes to meet his, Bryallyn murmured, "We will always be bound together, heart, mind and soul."_

_Nathaniel nodded, lifting her hand to his lips. "This is real," he told her when he released her hand a moment later. "You are alive."_

_Bryallyn nodded. "As are you," she returned. _

_Nathaniel watched her closely for a moment and became concerned when he saw her frown and suddenly appear in armor. "Bryallyn, what …?"_

_The moment Nathaniel released her hand, the dream began to fall apart around them. Bryallyn heard a roar of anger not too far away and understood that her current duty was calling back. They had no more time. Leaning over, she kissed Nathaniel fiercely, her hand lifting to trace the line of his jaw as she did so. "I AM alive," she promised him, her voice desperate in her attempt for him to believe her as she took a step back and called for Constant, now stirring to a wakeful state._

"_I WILL FIND YOU!" Nathaniel called after Bryallyn as she began walking away. Her only response was to lift a hand and wave at him as she retreated from his sight. Nathaniel glanced around him, trying to ascertain where she was going and why, but to no avail. He tried to follow, but she was gone and his surroundings suddenly taking on a misty, murky feeling …._

* * *

Nathaniel bolted upright, a cry for his wife caught in the back of his throat. Glancing around in the darkened tent, as he fought to bring his reactions back under his control, he began to recollect that he was in camp. Near the Korcari Wilds. Crawling over to the edge of the tent, he peeked out of the flap and found that while it was still dark, there were tell tale signs of the approaching dawn on the distant horizon. Time for him to rise. They had a journey to make. But as he rose and began packing up his belongings, Nathaniel was able to tuck the knowledge that Bryallyn was indeed alive close to his heart. It had been a dream, yes, but the one certainty that had been there, that they both had agreed upon, was that the other was alive.

* * *

It was some while later, after the Tower had been freed, after speaking with First Enchanter Irving and obtaining his agreement to assist with Connor, after reuniting with Wynne and having a quick discussion and 'evaluation' with her to be certain she and the child were well … even after a day out to sea, such as it was, that Bryallyn found herself thinking back upon what had happened.

"May I?"

The voice, deep and male and in her current state she almost mistook it for her husband, pulled Bryallyn back to reality. Turning, she blinked a moment until she recognized that it was Alistair beside her, speaking to her. Smiling, her face softening, she nodded. "Please do," she agreed.

They were silent for a time, but Alistair finally spoke. "Leliana and I were … worried," he told her quietly. When Bryallyn lifted a brow at him, he chuckled and felt his face flush just a bit. "Sorry … worried at you being so … quiet and withdrawn since the Tower," he clarified. "I know I asked you not to share my dream with anyone else … but perhaps you need to speak of your own?"

Bryallyn felt a wave of sudden emotion wash over her then. What exactly it was, she was not certain, but she knew that she had been very fortunate in her companions thus far in her journey. Smiling at him, Bryallyn shook her head. "There is no need," she assured him while turning to face back out towards the water. She could almost hear a protest forming, and hurriedly continued. "Alistair, my dream was just that … a dream … but it was more, too."

Alistair found himself frowning. Stepping up beside the railing with her, he asked, "How so?"

"There were some elements of truth in it."

The silence fell again and Alistair felt himself confused and slightly frustrated. She was hiding something from him. But, then again, she seemed to be less withdrawn now than simply … contemplative? Alistair struggled with deciding what he should do next.

Bryallyn seemed to sense his struggle and glanced up at him over her shoulder. Offering him a smile, she stepped a bit closer to him, her voice soft as she tried to explain. "Suffice it to say that I was able to determine that one whom I thought to be dead is indeed quite alive." She would not say 'safe.' Knowing Nathaniel as she did, his words still echoing in the back of her mind, she knew he would be out and in danger sooner rather than later, if he was not already.

It was Alistair's turn to blink in confusion this time. "How … how do you know?" he asked, bewilderment clear on his face.

Bryallyn simply smiled and unconsciously began turning and twisting the ring around her finger with her thumb. There was no logical way to explain it. "I just ... know," she finally replied and left it at that. "I'm sorry, Alistair … I have no other way to explain it." Thankfully, Alistair seemed willing to leave it there as well.

They remained at the rail for a time, sometimes talking, sometimes not, until a storm began to blow up from the south. As she descended to the safety of her room below, Bryallyn sincerely hoped that this was not some sort of omen to the passage of events in Redcliffe while they had been absent.


	51. Remains of the Day

_My pardons for the length of time it has taken to get this chapter to you. The idea has been with me for a long while, the chapter actually begun before the last one was posted. However, as I'm certain you can imagine, having to try to describe a situation similar to that in Return to Ostagar but set in a slightly different location (though nearby) and in a bit more (gory and emotional) detail than you see in game was a bit difficult to come up with. I had many a discussion with friends and betas who are familiar with the game as to what might have been seen, the conditions around the camp, etc. Additionally, timeline wise, it is only maybe two to three months now after the battle, so trying to decide just what state of corruption and decay (and what sort of effect the darkspawn/taint has on that) has been a challenge. I hope you forgive anything that might seem a bit off below in regards to that. Some of it is taken with the game in mind, some of it with real life interpretation of battles and such (being a medieval historian I have plenty of source information regarding the aftermath of battles such as from the 100 Years War)._

_Again, thank you to all who continue to read, review and lurk, as well as those who set alerts and favs including: ProsePrincess, Letticiae, naomis8329, BearMage, and VastoLorde015._

_Huge thanks to **MireliAmbar** and **Erynnar** who beta'd this chapter for me and helped me fine tune it. Also a huge shoutout to SoddingMuses who, early on, helped toss around ideas for what Ostagar might have been like for Nathaniel if he arrived at this time. (It also helps that she RPs a character on our DA rp site who was at the Battle too!)_

_As always, Bioware owns all but what I make up …. and here, that's a LOT! …..._

_**A/N:** Musical Inspiration: "Bring Me To Life," by Evanesence; "Dust in the Wind," by Kansas; "Don't Pay the Ferryman," by Chris deBurgh; and "Fury of the Wild," by Hammerfall._

* * *

The journey to Ostagar was one that Nathaniel would wonder for a long time if he would ever be able to forget. Aside from the overwhelming visual evidence before them that the darkspawn were on the move, there were other clues around them that added to the ever increasing sense of unease that he and the rest of his party were feeling. The moment they entered the tainted lands, it seemed as if the sky had suddenly shuttered itself off from view. Clouds, greyish, brackish in nature, appeared and began blocking the sun that had been so bright before their entry. Additionally, the eerie stillness that surrounded them was enough to set one's teeth on edge. No sounds, save the creaking of a branch or brush should someone move against it, and even then sounds were … off somehow. Nathaniel had expected something akin to this, yet it seemed undeniably worse than anything he could have imagined. He was in a constant state of alert, his eyes always roaming around them, his senses trying to make some sort of pattern to the devastation. Though they did not come upon any actual darkspawn, they did encounter several beasts affected by them. Bereskarns and blight wolves, they discovered, were just as difficult to kill as their untainted counterparts with the added complication of not being injured, or tainted, in return.

A trip that might normally have taken them three days at most to make, venturing from Lothering to Ostagar, instead took them nearly twice as long given the extra care with which they now traveled. Everyone was on alert. Constant watches were set in camp. When finally they arrived at Ostagar, they came in from the western side, having found the path around that way to be relatively easier to manage.

As they entered the valley, Nathaniel found himself staring up at the ruins above in the distance. Even the ancient stone seemed affected by the same taint as the surrounding landscape. And then, laying out right before them ….

Rhyan remained beside her friend as the group continued to move further into the valley. She could not repress a shudder as the evidence of battle became clearer with each step forward. Piles of rotting, desiccating corpses lay scattered around them and grew more and more numerous as they came closer to the main camp. It was also in amongst those piles that she soon came to realize that she could recognize some of the heraldry upon the armor. Swallowing past a lump in her throat, Rhyan caught Nathaniel's attention by nudging his arm and pointed towards one. "Is that not the device of Highever, Nate?"

Nathaniel's eyes followed Rhyan's hand indicated. He called out for Trinion as he felt his stomach fall, a sinking feeling of dread building upon itself as the truth settled upon him. Trinion arrived quickly and stepped closer to examine the armor more closely, seeking anything that might give them a clue. "A loose pauldron," he finally declared as he rose and stepped over towards Nathaniel and Rhyan. "Come loose during battle perhaps?" The piece of armor had the usual blood and gore on it, as one might expect from a battle, and the leather buckle straps appeared to have rough edges, as if the thing had been torn off or caught and pulled off. None of it offered any reassurances.

Nathaniel took the piece of armor Trinion handed towards him so that he could examine it a bit more closely. "Most likely, yes," he agreed quickly, the thought of any other possibility turning his stomach. Handing the piece towards Rhyan who took it from him, Nathaniel stepped over to examine the area more closely for himself. He was just crouching down when he heard a shout.

"My lord!"

Nathaniel turned his head to find Gryffyd and Grayson ahead of them and to the left of his current location. It was Gryffyd standing beside his companion, a hand at his shoulder in comfort, that had Nathaniel increasingly worried. Swallowing past his own fears, Nathaniel rose and murmured, "Come on," and led the way over to the pair of scouts.

Grayson was kneeling when they arrived, one hand covering his face, the other fisted around a scrap of cloth that appeared to be approximately a foot in length. Stepping forward, Nathaniel lowered himself beside the rogue and asked quietly, "What have you found, Grayson?"

Gryffyd glanced over at Rhyan and Trinion as they moved up beside Nathaniel. "It's a banner, my lord," he said quietly for his friend when it became clear that Grayson could not answer for himself just then.

"Whose?" Trinion moved in to kneel beside them, his voice harsh as he too, dreaded the answer. Each banner of Highever was kept by the different units. While outwardly they all appeared the same, there were minute differences, usually only seen close up, that identified to which unit each belonged. Not only did they indicate the type of group - infantry, archer, etc. - but there were other designations as each unit within a group had their own identifiers.

Grayson loosed his hold on the banner and handed it over to Trinion. Still unable to speak, he slowly rose to his feet, Gryffydd remaining steadfastly beside him. As Trinion began laying out the banner so he could 'read' it, Grayson murmured an apology to Nathaniel and stepped away. Nathaniel met Gryffydd's look first as the man hurriedly promised, "I will stay with him, m'lord," and then followed after.

Turning his attention towards Trinion then, Nathaniel waited. A harshly muttered, "Maker's Breath," was enough to let Nathaniel know it was more than just any Highever unit. Rhyan knelt beside Trinion then, her hand running over the material. "Grayson's brother's unit," Trinion finally announced.

Nathaniel allowed his gaze to seek out the man across the field, now crouched over beside another grouping of bodies, Gryffydd by his side as promised. He found himself wishing for Bryallyn by his side just now. Not for the obvious reason, but more for the fact that these were _her_ people, her soldiers. She knew the knights and soldiers and pages and squires and all who had fought here. There was a bond she had with them that he did not. If he was honest with himself, Nathaniel was feeling ill prepared with how to deal with this situation.

Trinion rose to his feet then, the sound pulling Nathaniel from his worries enough so that he could do the same. "If we find others," Trinion told him, the hand with the banner closing tightly around it, "we should hold onto them. This will be one way to record who was here and who was not." Nathaniel simply nodded. What else was there to say?

* * *

Several evenings later, they made camp some distance from where they had ultimately found the Highever camp at Ostagar. They had found evidence of tents, gear, chests, crates, even the burned out shell of a smithy's forge … all the typical things one might find in a military camp had been found. Nothing had remained, however, the site picked clean, presumably by the darkspawn horde as signs of their tainted presence could be both seen and smelled. After extensively examining the camp, the group had to concede that there just was not enough indication left for them to go on. Had troops survived? Had any been able to flee the obvious massacre that had resulted in this battle?

Between Nathaniel and his group, they had managed to retrieve just over twenty of the unit banners belonging to Highever before finding the camp. And yet, they still did not know if that was more an indication of defeat and destruction, or flight and survival. Yes, they had found bodies, or at least parts of bodies, but nearly all were unidentifiable. The only way that it was known that they were Highever troops was because of the armor they were wearing. It was a frustrating position to be in, Nathaniel thought, as they had no further information as to if any troops had survived and were now heading back towards Highever.

And throughout it all, no matter where they looked or what banners they found, there had been no indication of whether or not Fergus Cousland had been present at the battle. Nathaniel clung to this one fact as a sign of hope.

Departing the area, they moved northwest from Ostagar while taking as much care on their journey out of the Wilds as they had on the trip in. Though still in blighted lands, the overwhelming stench did not seem as bad the further away the moved. Whether that was due to the fact that they were now moving away from the heart of the area or they had just moved far enough distance from the battlefield, Nathaniel did not know. For that matter, he well knew it could be a trick of the mind. However, he was inclined to regard the first reason more heavily given that, as they had neared their current stopping point that night, Nathaniel had spotted far out on the horizon just the vaguest hint of the purples, reds and oranges of a sunset, again proving that they were nearing a breakaway point and that there was still life outside of the Wilds.

_Another night, maybe two_, he thought as he stared towards the horizon, _and we will be free of this. It will be safe to hunt, to eat from the land once more._ They had been surviving on dried meat and fruits and bread for the past couple of weeks. Nathaniel felt his mouth water at the thought of having a proper meal once more.

Footsteps behind him pulled him back to the present, however, and Nathaniel glanced over his shoulder. "Trinion."

The man nodded. "My lord. A word if I may?"

Turning to face him, Nathaniel nodded. "Of course. What's on your mind."

Trinion paused for a long moment, shifting his stance just a bit. Nathaniel thought he could sense a bit of trepidation radiating off of the man, but he remained silent, waiting for Trinion to speak when he was ready. If Nathaniel had learned nothing of him during their time together, he had learned that Trinion would never waste his time.

"I thought to enquire your plans from this point forth," he finally murmured.

A simple enough question, but one that Nathaniel knew to have a much deeper meaning. _Do we continue to look for Highever troops, or do we turn towards Denerim and father?_ Nathaniel breathed in deep, releasing the air slowly, giving himself time to ponder the question. The trip to Ostagar had given them no information to go on. No clue if anyone had survived or not, just too many indications that many had been lost. But the fact that they had not found banners for all units, and no sign of Fergus …. "We are almost to the Hinterlands, are we not?" Nathaniel finally asked, though he knew all too well their current location by the maps and information that Trinion had pulled together for him.

"We are, my lord," Trinion agreed. "We will be just south and east of Redcliffe."

Nathaniel nodded, the map now in his hands as he opened it and examined the details once more. "And you think the troops would have headed west, around the lake, back to Highever?"

Again Trinion nodded in agreement. "As I mentioned before, my lord, we have a standing agreement with the Bann of Rainesfere, here." He pointed to an area on the map that touched the southwestern edge of Lake Calenhad.

Nathaniel studied the distance between their current location and the Bannorn of Rainesfere. Then he eyed the distance from here to Denerim. Lifting a finger, Nathaniel traced a rough line towards Bann Teagan's lands. "We will head this way," he agreed. "Perhaps Bann Teagan can give us information on the location of Highever's troops if we do not run into them first." He lifted his eyes to meet Trinion's, and did not fail to see a look of relief mixed with gratitude there. Had the man thought he wouldn't continue? Offering him a smile of reassurance, Nathaniel lifted a hand to clap against Trinion's shoulder and added quietly, "We will find out one way or another, Trinion. I owe the Couslands that much and more."


	52. Revelations

_So sorry! I've had this done now for about a week but real life's been so crazy I've not had a chance to post it up!_

_Thanks to all who have been reading, reviewing and lurking as well as those setting alerts including: MayorMayKadoody, Kenshiro2008, LadyAliera, KalikaStorm, KimiRen, kittywaffles1, naomi8329, BearMage, Letticiae, Mazanti and ProsePrincess._

_Thanks to my fabulous betas! This time around: **MireliAmbar, VioletTheirin** and **Erynnar**. Without you ladies, I'd be very stuck! _

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N:** Musical Inspiration: Only one this time I think, though I've added some songs to my ipod recently. This one is more due to my feelings that I need to get this story moving a bit faster rather than any association with the story (or maybe not? will need to think on that). Song is "Nowhere Fast" from the movie Streets of Fire. Fabulous song, very powerful and moving and certainly has been on my repeat button for a while now!_

* * *

There were times during her life when Bryallyn detested the role of leadership more than anything else. Usually this came about when the responsibilities were suddenly and unexpectedly thrust upon her (or anyone in such a position, really) so that they seemed impossible to accomplish and yet, no one else ever seemed capable of doing them. Situations that, given their dire or extreme circumstances, would inevitably make Bry feel antsy and nervous. Uncertain of whether she was up to the challenge. Afraid of failing. Preferring the role of follower to that of leader. Thankfully, the times she had to take on leadership roles had been very few and far between up to this point in her life, though she had some experience with them.

_And then Father wanted me to be in charge … and I agreed to become a Warden …._

She was standing at the rail of the ship, watching as First Enchanter Irving and the contingent of mages (along with their augmented supplies of lyrium and Templar bodyguard) disembarked the ship and began climbing towards the castle. As Wynne had explained to her earlier, they would need time to set up and prepare for the ritual. Bry had nodded her understanding before offering suggestions to locations in the castle that might be conducive for the ritual to take place, for which both Wynne and First Enchanter Irving had thanked her. Bryallyn had tasked Alistair to assist the mages with their preparations, nominally because he and Wynne both seemed to get along well together, but also (and she would not state this to Alistair or Wynne out loud) as an added means of precaution.

It wasn't that Bryallyn didn't trust the mages at all, or the one Templar that Knight Commander Greagoir had insisted accompany them. Far from it. Wynne was one of the few whom Bry had met over her lifetime that she felt she could completely trust. Rather, given all the troubles that had passed, both at the Tower and here at the castle, Bry had decided that Alistair's easy going manner might help put things at ease. The fact that he had Templar abilities and would (she hoped!) use them if it became necessary, was a more subtle message that she wondered if anyone else even understood. Plus, with Connor's demon still more or less on the loose, and a new group of mages coming into range, Bryallyn hoped this would be enough protection.

Initially upon their arrival, Sten had met the group at the docks and given them an update of the situation. His stoic, clipped manner seemed to have put the others off, as had the hard looks he had given the group of mages as they began their disembarkation, but Bryallyn was beginning to understand this Qunari. And while neither was ready to call the other 'friend' just yet, the process towards that goal had taken steps in that direction. Now, it appeared further efforts would be made. Before Sten had turned to return to the castle, Bryallyn had pulled him aside for a more in-depth discussion. Well, mostly a one-sided discussion from her side of things, though he had answered her questions without too much prodding. And it was during this conversation that Bryallyn came to understand the man just a bit more. Somehow, the topic had turned around to something more personal for Sten.

As they talked, Bry came to find out that his reasons for traveling with their group was twofold. He explained in detail what had occurred to him and his companions that ultimately led up to his killing of the farmer and his family in cold blood and his subsequent punishment of being caged in Lothering where the group had come upon him. When Bryallyn challenged him as to why he simply did not return to his own lands afterwards, he went on to explain about the Qunari culture, of how his life as a soldier was tied to the possession of his sword. To return without it would be a punishment worse than even execution for murder. While she thought this seemed a bit extreme, Bryallyn was astute enough to realize that different cultures were just that: different. Saying nothing of her own opinion on such matters, she instead asked a few more questions of the Qunari, determined the last location known of the sword, and then offered to start an active search for it as they journeyed. In the end, though he seemed doubtful that much would come of such attentions, he did thank her for the effort.

Sten departed the docks with the last of the mages and the lyrium, insistent that he return to his watch over Connor until such time as the ritual could be performed. Bryallyn did not stop him. They had spoken before regarding mages and he had made his viewpoints very clear to her, and both had fought through the battle of the undead together here in Redcliffe and seen the devastation caused by the boy. Though he did not come out directly and blame Connor for everything, Bryallyn had been able to piece together the man's insights based off of his few comments. Given the Lady Isolde's actions that had led to this situation, or lack thereof depending on one's viewpoint, Bryallyn could not blame the Qunari for his beliefs. In fact, had she not known other mages before, including Wynne among others, Bryallyn might well have felt the same.

Bryallyn retrieved her few belongings as well as Constant afterwards, pausing as she exited the ship one last time to thank the captain for his services. It was mere moments after this, as Bryallyn disembarked and began the walk up the hill and through the village in the direction of castle that she realized she and Constant were not alone. To be truthful, her attentions had been drifting elsewhere, her thoughts touching upon Connor and then moving on to her late nephew, Oren, and eventually back to thoughts of her own child before Bryallyn became aware of the signs that she was being followed. It nearly startled her when she realized it, that she could become this distracted so that she would forget her surroundings. A quick glance down at Constant, however, reassured her that all was well. Had the person been someone new or strange or threatening, the hound would have been on alert much sooner. Instead, he trotted casually beside her as they walked along, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth and swaying with the motion of his gait. This gave Bryallyn a few moments to think on who her watcher could be and how to approach the situation.

In the end, two things rapidly became clear: of their company, of the people that Constant knew and would be familiar enough with to not react to, there was only one who could move about in such stealth and quiet and who had not had a particular assignment after their return to Redcliffe.

As for confronting the situation, well, Bryallyn made the decision to wait until she and Constant had cleared the docks and the village and were well on the ascent towards the bridge to the castle. As she was about to step onto the bridge planking, Bryallyn gave Constant a hand signal, murmured a name and sent the hound off just as she spun around. As she had thought, her follower was not right behind her, though a soft and lilting yelp a moment later followed imediately by a rustling of brush and the arrival of her friends, both human and hound, confirmed Bryallyn's suspicions. Struggling to hide her amusement, Bryallyn bit the inside of her lip and lifted a brow in question. She nearly lost her composure as Leliana pouted and hrmphed a moment later, reluctantly giving in to being caught.

"You do not fight fair!" she protested.

Bryallyn snorted at this, her amusement leaking out just a bit. "As if you thought I would?" she challenged. Of course, Leliana knew of what had occurred to Bryallyn at Highever, of events that had led to her becoming a Warden. Just as Bryallyn knew that if she had not discovered her friend's presence, Leliana would have blistered her ears regarding her inattentions.

Time stood still for a long moment then, the two women facing each other, faces pulled into looks of consternation or challenge while the mabari looked back and forth between them, confusion furrowing his features. Eventually, Constant moved beside his master, nuzzling his head beneath her fingers until she absently scratched behind his ears, the sign for him that all was well. Then someone gave, just a bit. Neither would admit it was they, but a twitch, a soft snicker, a slight tilting of the lips … something gave and the two were soon chuckling in amusement, the laughter building and eventually taking over for a few moments in which the women had to lean upon each other for support.

"I had begun to think you might have lost yourself in thought," Leliana challenged after a time, moving into step with Bryallyn as they began to cross the bridge.

Bryallyn smiled. "Not for so long that I did not notice your attempts to follow me," she returned. She sighed softly then and added, "I had thought you'd gone up to the castle with Alistair, actually."

There was a moment's hesitation then, almost unnoticeable, but one that had Bryallyn tilting her head towards the Orlesian in question. Something appeared to be troubling her friend. "What is it?" she asked.

Leliana came to a halt then, stepping over to the rail of the bridge where she could lean upon it in support and stare out at Lake Calenhad beyond. "I … I wished to speak with you," she murmured as Bryallyn stepped beside her.

"As you wish," Bry returned quickly, sensing the hesitation and insecurity in her friend. This was something she had not seen before, and she had to at least admit silently that it concerned her.

Another pause, eyes still staring out towards the lake, gave Leliana time to sort out her words. "I … I was not truthful with you before."

The words, though spoken very softly, were heard and had Bryallyn's brow furrowing. However, not willing to pass judgement just yet, she asked, "Oh, how so?"

Leliana finally turned her head to eye Bryallyn then. The ranger could see that the blue eyes were clouded with … was that fear? Another bristling at the hair on the back of her neck had Bryallyn wanting to stiffen her spine, to put some distance between them. _Wait for it,_ she counseled herself_._ _Do not jump to conclusions._

Haltingly at first, softly, the Orlesian began to explain about her background. Losing her mother at a young age and being raised by Lady Cecilie. The loss of this woman and her being recruited and trained in Orlais. About the woman named Marjolaine who had turned her into a bard.

Bryallyn blinked at this. _A bard?_ "You are a spy then?" Really, Bryallyn could not keep from asking the question.

Leliana sighed. "Of a sort." She tried to explain the difference to Bryallyn then, describing the types of things she had been trained for. Talking about some of the missions she had taken. Explaining about bards in general, and herself in more specific terms. Eventually, she related her last mission for Marjolaine; a mission in which she had been betrayed. But throughout, Bryallyn stood there listening, contemplating, evaluating. In an odd way, the things that Leliana was now telling her were clearing up oddities that Bryallyn had noticed upon meeting the woman, and yet that had not really been enough to require any conversation, confrontation or action. Leliana had martial skills that went well beyond those of most members of the Chantry, and though she had brushed it off simply by saying that she had been out in the world before becoming a lay sister, she had never taken the added step to explain how, when or where she had come across such training. Bryallyn had seen time and again by observing the woman in person as she asked her questions of others, skills that the ranger now realized must have been from that training. Certain phrasings that, Bryallyn had assumed, were merely due to the language differences between Fereldan and Orlesian.

_Maker, am I that naive?_ she wondered after a moment. _Am I that blind to what is right in front of me?_ Bryallyn stood there in silence for a time, simply staring off into the distance. _What am I to do with this information? Is she here to spy on me? Father used to make trips to Orlais … is it possible she had been spying on him and was now turning it onto me? Or the others? Is she here on a mission or because she sincerely wants to help us?_

"I can see that I have caught you off guard."

Bryallyn could not hold back a snort at that. "That is one way to put it, I suppose," she returned.

Leliana emitted a resigned sigh and pushed away from the rail, taking a step away from Bryallyn. "If you wish me to leave," she told the younger woman, "I will. I am not here to make things more difficult for you than they already are." Bryallyn found herself wondering if Leliana had purposefully made her comments vague. Was she referring to just this moment, or to leaving the group as a whole?

Constant stepped forward then, placing himself between the two women as he could sense the rising tensions. Finally turning to face Leliana then, Bryallyn reached out and scratched the hound's head, behind the ears where he enjoyed it most. "I do not know what I want," the Warden finally returned, her eyes slowly meeting the bard's before her, evaluating her in a completely new light. "All I know right now is that the person I thought was my friend has been holding back information from me - important information." She saw that Leliana would speak then, but Bryallyn raised her hand to keep the woman silent. "And while I understand that, as a bard, you were trained in certain ways … I would have thought that you could have told me of this before now."

Leliana's eyes narrowed slightly as she murmured, "When one has been betrayed, trust is most often a difficult still to relearn."

Bryallyn held the look without flinching. "On that we can both agree," she replied.

They stood there in silence for a few moments, the weight of each other's words penetrating the haze of mistrust. Finally, Leliana nodded once and her lips turned slightly, a soft smile forming where none had been a moment before. For herself, Bryallyn, felt a similar pull. Assuming the bard's story was true, they did still have something in common … which suddenly got the younger woman to thinking.

Signaling Constant to walk before them, Bryallyn took a step forward and nodded towards the castle. Leliana agreed and moved into step beside her. As they walked, Bryallyn searched for a way to ask the woman the question that had occurred to her. "What would it take to be trained as a bard?"

To her credit, the question did not seem to phase Leliana in the least. Though her head did not turn, Bryallyn was able to glance up in time to see the blue eyes dart in her direction if only for a second. "Is there someone you wished to be trained?" Leliana countered.

"Myself." The reply came quickly and firmly. Why this was suddenly important to her, Bryallyn was not certain. However, given the events that had occurred over the past months at Highever, and the fact that neither she nor anyone in her family had been in the least bit prepared to defend against it, she could not help but feel as if some sort of training along these lines would have saved lives if not the castle and town.

The pair followed the hound through the gates, across the courtyard and up the steps into Redcliffe castle. As they entered the main hall, Leliana took a step closer to Bryallyn and murmured near her ear, "If that is what you wish, it can be done, yes."

The great hall itself was crowded, having been designated as the location for the upcoming ritual, but no more words between them were necessary as Bryallyn felt a smile pull more tightly at her lips then. Tilting her head towards Leliana's for a moment, she saw the agreement there. _Good. Perhaps this might help us both learn to trust once more, too._


	53. Conversations With The Regent

_*sets down huge vats of brain bleach* _

_Yes, you'll need it by the end of this chapter! As I've tried to do with Rendon Howe, I will try to do with Loghain - and that is to get inside of his head and figure out (somewhat) how he thinks. Below is my first attempt at that. It didn't start off too badly, though as I started adding more thoughts and maneuverings (he IS Regent, after all) to it, I thought I might get completely lost there. However, I did finally manage to find my way back out once more. Yay!_

_Thank you to all who continue to read, review and lurk, as well as those setting alerts. I know I just posted the previous chapter, so my list of gratitude will be shorter this time: Erynnar, BearMage and Nyx of Wolves. _

_Thanks to my fabulous betas **Erynnar **and **MireliAmbar **this time. As always, I am flattered that you ladies stick by me and assist me with my little bits of insanity! And yes, I REALLY appreciate you slugging your way through this one!_

_As always, Bioware owns all but what I made up ….._

_**A/N:** Musical inspiration: I know I said I had some new downloads, but sadly nothing that would tie in with this particular chapter. I'll save it for next time …._

* * *

After a morning spent in heated discussion with his daughter, the royal study proved to be the only room in which he could find some semblance of peace … and yet, this too was limited. He knew the room well. Too well, perhaps. Many a time over the years he had found himself in this room. Better times and among people he viewed as friends. Business of the realm had been the topic, for the most part, though such discussions had inevitably given way to more personal ones. It had been here also that Loghain had found his king after_ she_ had died. Alone, drowning his sorrows in drink. It had been one of the few times that he had actually almost thought the man worthy of her. _Almost._

Usually, however, the room had been a location of much happier times. Maric and his bright and jovial nature, his almost boyish outlook … now long gone. Bryce, amiable and kind, strategic in his thinking and yet, too open to outside influences, particularly those from beyond Ferelden's borders. And together, their inevitable teasing of him and his darker more surly nature. Still and all, good memories …

_Except now._

Loghain scowled at the page he had been unsuccessfully attempting to read for the past hour or so. Not even the study would be kind to him this day it seemed. Slamming the book on the nearby table, the Regent rose to his feet and decided that the search for heavier drink in order to chase away the demons that plagued him would be worth the hunt. A quick glance over at the sideboard in the room reminded him that he had dismissed the elven servant before she could bring any such distractions into the room. Irritation building upon itself, he stormed out of the study, the great hall his ultimate destination. Fortunately, no one he passed appeared to be of a mind to make an attempt to stop him.

True to his hope, for he had been in attendance at the castle on and off for many years and certain routines did not seem to change no matter who was in charge, the sideboard here contained various offerings … wine, ale, fruits, breads and other snacking items that would get one through to the next meal lay out for the taking. Loghain chose a large chalice and poured. The first cup he downed nearly in one gulp. _No time for savoring today,_ he told himself. Then, thinking better of ingesting large quantities of such a potent liquid on a nearly empty stomach, for he still had 'business of the realm' to tackle, he reached for a slice of bread and an apple. These too disappeared quickly, surprising him at first. Perhaps he had burned off his breakfast during the discussions he'd had with Anora? Whatever the case, he now ate as if starving, adding another slice of bread and a bit of cheese to the list followed immediately by another cup of wine.

Though halfway through his impromptu meal, his thoughts scattered elsewhere, he was still clear headed enough to notice the sound of approaching footsteps behind him. They sounded booted, purposeful, and yet ….

Turning, Loghain was not surprised to see _him_ standing there. He had known the man since back in the days of the Rebellion, had found him to be the same sort of sniveling, conniving bastard that he was to this day. Opportunistic to a fault, perhaps. Loghain drank again. Over the intervening years, since the defeat of Meghren, there had not been much call for communication between the two and Loghain had almost forgotten about him … until more recent times.

Loghain grimaced as the wine went down sourly, settling heavy in his stomach. Though he could understand Howe's reasons (a full defense of his actions had been made upon their first meeting in Denerim since Ostagar), the way he had gone about eliminating what was perceived to be an 'Orlesian threat' did not settle well. The Regent had no love of law or legal procedure, but even he understood the need for it to be in place. Charges should have been brought. The Couslands should have been allowed to make their case before their peers. Instead, an entire noble family, one with a history nearly as long as the Theirin line, had been erased. Or, as good as. Loghain's eyes met the Arl's. _Even your own son?_ he thought. "Yes, what is it?" he demanded roughly.

"I bring word, sire."

Loghain sighed. _Sniveling, opportunistic, greedy bastard._ Had not the man made his case for the Arling of Denerim upon word of the death of Urien's son during the uprising in the Alienage? _And what does that make you, the man who granted him the arling?_ That the voice in the back of his head was still speaking to him was proof enough he had not yet imbibed enough.

"There are demands from the Bannorn that you step down from the Regency."

Loghain snorted in derision. _No doubt led by the likes of Teagan Guerrin. I had suspected he might be as much trouble as the brother … but more?_ Silently, Loghain could admit that he had underestimated Rowan's youngest sibling. Where Eamon was a politician, a man used to using words to accomplish his goals, Teagan Guerrin was a man used to backing his words with action. _Perhaps I chose the wrong brother to keep out of the way?_ Turning, Loghain faced the hearth once more, glaring into the flickering flames while Howe continued. "They are said to be gathering their forces. As are your allies. It appears it will be civil war after all, despite the darkspawn. Pity."

_Indeed._

"I also have an interesting report." Loghain tilted his head slightly at this. Glancing just over his left shoulder, he waited for the details. "There seem to be Grey Wardens who survived Ostagar. How I don't know, but they will act against you."

Loghain sighed, his eyes closing for a moment. _Perfect. Duncan, you haunt me from the Fade, do you? Could you have survived? I've no doubts you are skilled enough to do so, and as a Warden, you would know of the ways to get beyond the darkspawn … but to survive that battle?_

"I have arranged for a … solution, with your leave."

Loghain turned to face the man again, not surprised that Howe would have put measures in place before bringing this to Loghain's attention. The man was surprisingly efficient when it came to planning out strategy. The Regent was surprised, however, to find a blond-haired elf stepping forward out of the shadows. A rogue, by the looks of him. More memories from past battles and campaigns began to surface.

"The Antivan Crows send their regards."

Loghain snorted and turned his back to the pair, taking a long pull from his drink. "An assassin?" he challenged Howe a moment later.

But Howe appeared ready to counter any resistance that the Regent might have to offer. "Against the Grey Wardens we will need the very best."

That, Loghain had to admit even if only silently, was true. But the Antivan spoke then, breaking into Loghain's thoughts. "And, the most expensive."

Loghain managed to keep from rolling his eyes. Barely. "Just get it done," he bit out, a hand lifting to rub at his temple. _Maker's breath, will I get no peace anywhere this day?_ There was silence behind him, save for the sound of retreating footsteps … but even Loghain could tell it was only one set. Howe must have remained. Loghain hoped the man would not tax him much further. His patience was beginning to wear very thin.

After sufficient time for the elf to disappear, Loghain heard Howe's steps approaching once more. "Sire, the situation in the Bannorn …."

This time it was Loghain who had the details. Lifting a hand to halt the man's words, Loghain announced, "Measures have already been taken to deal with the situation in the Bannorn, to undermine the leadership of those who would stand against us." He found himself wondering at the state of affairs in Redcliffe in that regard. He'd heard that Teagan had left Denerim following the Landsmeet, and rumor had it that his departure had been rushed as if due to sudden news. He made a mental note to check on that later, to see if he could find further information. "However," he continued, not willing to place all eggs in one basket, "send out enough troops to keep an eye on things across the Bannorn. Give our allies what assistance they need." He would be damned if he would let the country fall apart and be overrun by Orlesians, or their Fereldan patsies, once more.

"As you wish, sire," Howe's gratiating voice rumbled.

"Another thing," Loghain added with sudden inspiration, "see to it that the border with Orlais is closed off. We don't need any foreign influences getting into the country either."

"It will be done."

With a wave of his hand, Loghain heard Howe begin shuffling off out of the room. Downing the last dregs of his drink, Loghain set the vessel aside on the table with the now empty bottle and turned to exit the room. Meandering through the halls, his thoughts fell back to the 'agent' he had sent to Redcliffe. _Why has there been no word?_ he wondered. _Should we not have heard one way or another? Is Eamon still alive? Dead? Surely the contact would have sent word to Denerim now?_ That Teagan had not sent word or sought a personal audience with him to voice his concerns (best case scenario) or outrage (worst case) caused Loghain to frown. Perhaps this plan had worked better than he had hoped to keep the younger brother out of mischief?

_Rowan, forgive me_, he thought then. _I do this for the good of the country. Surely you, of all people, would have understood that?_ He attempted to push away any further thought or, worse yet, impending guilt regarding his plans. He needed to find a place for some peace and quiet. Some place no one would … think … to look ….

Loghain's steps slowed as he passed a hallway, and he glanced down towards the far end. _The Chantry._ Perhaps he could find peace and quiet in the palace chapel. No one would think to look for him there.


	54. In Search Of

_Thank you to all who continue to read and review and lurk! I'm amazed (and humbled) that this story continues to draw in new readers! Also thanks to those setting alerts and favs including: Erynnar, Liso66, BearMage, ProsePrincess, LadyAliera, MayorMayKadoody and stephaniekit._

_Thanks to my fabulous betas without whom I'd be so lost! This time around **MireliAmbar, Liso66** and **Erynnar**. *huggles*_

_As always, Bioware owns all but what I make up …..._

_**A/N:** Musical Inspiration: "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" by Pat Benetar, "The Island - Pt. 1" by Pendulum, and "Point of Know Return" by Kansas. This was a harder chapter to find specific music for, I hope the upcoming ones will be a bit easier!_

Before the ritual was to begin, Bryallyn pulled her fellow Warden aside and to ask him one of the more difficult questions she had ever had to ask, especially given the things he had told her over the past weeks and months. "Alistair, I … know you won't particularly care for this, but I need to ask you a favor."

To his credit, Alistair gave her a look filled more with curiosity than anything else. "Oh, now that is interesting," he teased back, a lopsided grin tilting at his lips. "Because you see, there are a lot of things that I don't care for, only some of which you are aware. So would this be one of those I've already told you? Or, perhaps one you are guessing at? Hmm."

Bryallyn could have hugged him at that point. His humor, as off or self-deprecating as it could be sometimes, always had the effect of putting her at ease when she most needed it. It was one of the things she liked best about him. "Alistair!" The amusement was clear in her tone.

"I've got it!" he broke in, his hands between them, gesticulating as he often did. "The entire supply of Fereldan cheddar in the castle has gone moldy and there's no other substitute for it to have with supper and you want me to hike all the way to Lothering and bring some back in time for the evening meal."

Chuckling, Bry reached out and wrapped her fingers around his gauntleted forearm. Giving him a smile of appreciation, Bryallyn told him, "Seriously, Alistair, I need a favor."

Alistair nodded immediately. "As you command."

Taking a deep breath, Bry made her request. "Given what we, or rather Wynne, is about to attempt in there," she nodded towards the hall, "I was wondering if you might stand watch over her?" Bryallyn pulled her lower lip between her teeth for a moment. "I know you've told me you don't much care for the Templar duties and all, and that you were glad to be free of the Order, but … I would rather have someone with the interests of Wynne and Connor at heart see to their protection …."

There was only a moment's pause before he replied in all seriousness. "While it is true I hated the thought of what I might have to become, I will do this for you," he assured her. Then, the cheekiness returned. "Besides, I must protect my favoritist mage, right?"

Bry was still chuckling as they returned to the hall, her worries halted almost before they had begun. She and her fellow Warden had talked quite a bit on the trip to and from the Tower. She had come to learn quite a bit about him.

They were nearing the rest of the group when Bryallyn suddenly felt the room swirl around her, the floor wavering up and down before her. Her hand shot out, in the direction of Alistair who though startled, was quick to grab onto it and move to her side before she could fall. "Steady on," he murmured to her, moving so that his arm was around her shoulders for support and so that she could lean against him further if she felt it necessary.

"I'm … I'll be … fine," she managed in a weak tone after a moment, though she did lean against him for a brief time. The cool touch of the metal on his armor against her cheek and forehead helped to steady her. She took several moments spent focusing on her breathing patterns.

Her face turned into Alistair's shoulder, Bryallyn still heard footsteps approaching. She was not certain who it was until she felt Alistair stiffen beside her. Only one person had that sort of affect on him. "My my," the haughty tone crooned, grating against Bryallyn's nerves. "Is our fearless leader ill, I wonder? Showing signs of weakness at long last?"

"Morrigan -"

Bryallyn straightened and shook her head at Alistair's protest. While thankful, she knew that the tension between the two would not help in this instance. "Not now, Morrigan," she told the witch.

"'Not now?'" she echoed. "'Twould be the most opportune time, I would think. Did your mother never instruct you on these matters, I wonder? Have you no sense of what you -"

Her anger suddenly spiraling out of control, Bryallyn spun around to face the apostate, a move she soon came to regret but she would die before she would allow Morrigan to see it. "I came back from my wedding trip to find my family and home under attack," she spat out in a voice trembling with irritation. "Forgive me if I had more important things like survival and my parents' deaths at the hands of a traitorous bastard to deal with than to take the time to ask my mother for advice on pregnancy!"

Both Morrigan and Alistair seemed to be taken aback by Bryallyn's sudden mood shift. "Now Bry," Alistair began gently, his hand grasping her shoulder firmly as he pulled her away from the mage. Giving Morrigan his best and darkest glare, he tugged at Bryallyn until she moved to follow his guidance. "She isn't worth the effort, you know," he murmured near the ranger's ear. "Let it go."

Bryallyn suddenly felt a wave of misery wash over her. Whether it was due to memories dredged up by Morrigan's words or regret at what she would miss by not having her mother around during this time, or even guilt at what she had said to the apostate, Bryallyn had no clue, but she felt first one tear and then another begin trickling down her cheek. Swiping furiously at them, it took her a moment before she realized that Alistair was leading her to a bench across the hall near to where the site for the ritual was arranged. She had no choice but to sit as Alistair began pressing on her shoulder with a heavy hand. "Sit," he told her.

The sound of footsteps had both of them turning a moment later, prepared to chase off Morrigan once more, but it was only Leliana who offered a smile of understanding as she seated herself. "I will sit with you," she offered kindly as she gave Alistair a nod, almost as if knowing what duties he would be taking on in the next few moments.

Sighing, Bryallyn nodded at Alistair as well. "I will be fine," she told him in a much calmer tone than before. "And, Alistair?" When he looked back over his shoulder at her, she gave him a small smile. "Thank you."

Though time consuming, the ritual went off without a hitch. Seated with the bard, Bryallyn remained silent and thoughtful throughout the process, even when it began to seem if it would drag on through the night. When she began to get a bit nervous and jittery, as the hour continued to progress and the skies outside darkened, she felt Leliana's hand grasp hers and squeeze reassuringly. Bryallyn offered the bard a quick look of thanks.

After what seemed forever, Bryallyn glanced over towards Alistair as he stood watch over Wynne and saw him straightening. Wynne's eyes began opening then, blinking a few times before opening wide and meeting the ex-Templar's gaze. Bryallyn sighed in relief when Alistair glanced over at First Enchanter Irving and then at her, nodding to both. Wynne was fine.

The majority of the gathered assortment of spectators began to break up then, though Alistair, Teagan, Wynne, Irving and Bryllyn remained. Wynne began explaining what she had encountered, the results of her time in the Fade. "Whatever is affecting the father is not the same as the child," she explained wearily. "I have dealt with the demon that possessed Connor," she continued. She gave Alistair a look then and he turned to leave the room. Facing Bryallyn and Teagan then, she continued, "What it is that is affecting the Arl is not of the Fade."

"Jowan told us as much," Bryallyn agreed softly.

Teagan nodded. "But then why does he not wake?"

Wynne offered another weary smile. "Bryallyn is correct in what Jowan has said," she agreed. "Though, based off of what he told her, the poison given to him to administer to the Arl is beyond the knowledge of the Circle."

Irving agreed as well. "I suspect that whatever has been used against Arl Eamon will require something of the extraordinary to counteract it."

Bryallyn sighed softly, but she nodded, the words of Ser Donall back in Lothering coming back to her. _Andraste's Ashes. But where to begin?_

Wynne then broke in, "If you do not mind, my dear, I think I will take my leave and lie down for a while."

Bryallyn nodded. "Of course, Wynne. Please." When Irving offered to escort Wynne to her room, Bryallyn agreed.

Turning to face Teagan, Bry asked, "Bann Teagan, would you escort me to the library please? I think perhaps we need to begin some research into our next steps."

Teagan offered Bryallyn his arm and led her down the hall while admonishing her, "Now, I know that you know better than to call me that."

Bryallyn chuckled and offered him a slightly mischievous grin. "But, my lord …."

Teagan, realizing she was teasing him, warned, "If you persist in your -"

Bryallyn laughed then and squeezed his arm with hers. "I will stop!" she returned lightly. "I promise!"

They entered the library together, Teagan leading her inside before closing the door behind them. After adding a log or two to the small fire to warm the room, he turned back to face her. "Now then, my lady," he saw her grin and sighed before continuing, "how may I be of service?"

Bryallyn took that moment to begin explaining her idea. "I had a thought," she told him. "What if Lady Isolde was not so far off the mark by sending the knights of Redcliffe after the Ashes? We are faced with a situation that we have no answers for, after all."

Teagan frowned for a moment, lifting a hand to rub along his jaw. "I see what you mean, Bryallyn, but how would we begin? Where?"

"Well, here is my thought. Alistair and I met up with one of the Redcliffe knights in Lothering after we fled Ostagar. His name, I believe, was Ser Donall. He and Ser Henric were both in the area, though we had the unfortunate duty of telling the man of his friend's demise at the hands of bandits." Bryallyn shook her head sadly. "However, we did find a note with some information in it that we ultimately delivered to Ser Donall. When last we spoke with him, before leaving Lothering, Ser Donall mentioned something about perhaps visiting the scholar that Ser Henric mentioned in his note."

Teagan blinked for a moment as he tried to absorb all that she was telling him. "And what was the name of the scholar?" he finally enquired.

"Brother Genitivi."

"Ah … then I may be able to assist you," he announced, stepping around her and leading her towards the back shelves. "For I recognize the name and I believe that my brother has several tomes in his collection authored by the good brother. I do not believe the collection to be extensive, but …."

Bryallyn smiled as she followed after him, thankful that Arl Eamon had some of the volumes at least. She could recall that her father's library also contained a few of them as well. _Some is better than none, after all …._

"Ah, here we are," Teagan announced and pulled out several volumes including, _In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar, The Stone and Her Children: Dwarves of the Dragon Age Tales from Beneath the Earth, The History of Grey Wardens in Ferelden _and_ Thedas: Myths and Legends'._ "Will any of these help do you think?"

Bryallyn smiled at him. "I don't know for certain, but I will gladly look through them if I may. Though," she reached out almost hesitantly for the volume on the Grey Wardens, "might I take this one with me to look over more thoroughly? Since Alistair and I are the only remaining Wardens at the moment and we are both relatively new to the order …."

Teagan nodded, taking the book and placing it gently in her hands. "Think of it as a gift of repayment for your assistance so far," he assured her sincerely. "Now, as for the rest of these, would you like some assistance in searching through them? I have some free time at the moment."

Bryallyn actually laughed. "If you would not mind, please! While I _am_ a fairly quick reader, I am afraid these might keep me here through the night!"

Teagan helped Bryallyn settle in a nearby chair before sending a servant for tea and sandwiches to be brought up. He then joined her in another chair and they began the tedious task of searching for information.

Some hours later, they were still at it. Bryallyn finally sighed and closed her book, setting it aside upon the table before shifting to find a more comfortable position in her chair. Deciding instead that she needed to stretch, she rose to her feet and began to do so … and felt another wave of dizziness strike her. She must have made a sound, she realized later, as Teagan was beside her in a moment, a supportive arm around her shoulder, guiding her back into her seat. "Bry," she realized just how much she must have startled him to have him call her by the shortened version of her name, "are you ill? Shall I fetch Wynne or First Enchanter Irving for you?"

Lifting a hand to her forehead, Bryallyn shook her head negatively. "No, no," she murmured. "I will be quite alright in a few moments." She scrubbed her hands over her face then, hoping the action might help her regain her sense of balance. When she finished this, she reached for her cup of tea and took a sip. However, despite the measures she took, Teagan remained by her side, the concern evident in his features. Sighing, Bryallyn reached out and patted his arm. "Really, Teagan, I'm fine."

"You cannot convince me, my lady, that what just occurred was normal or expected."

Another sigh. "Teagan … please," she insisted, wishing desperately that he would drop the subject.

"Do I need to go and find Alistair to tell him? Your lovely minstrel friend? What about the dark haired beauty that travels with you?"

"Morrigan?" Bryallyn could not hold back a soft snort at that thought. Morrigan would just as likely rather see Bryallyn suffering, she knew. "They already know the issue at hand," she assured him.

"That issue being?"

"It will be a non-issue in a few months," she told him, sincerely wishing he would simply let the matter drop. If she told him, it would inevitably lead to questions she could not, or would not, be willing to answer. At his look of utter confusion, Bryallyn relented just a bit. She would have to spell it out a bit more, it seemed. But, given who and what he was, she supposed she could understand that he was not used to being told such things. "In about six months."

Bryallyn sat back and watched his face closely this time as he thought about what she had said. And not said. She thought she could almost see the pieces of information whirling around inside of his head behind his eyes. With each passing moment, however, she did not see any sign of recognition. Apparently, she would have to be blunt with him. Taking a breath then, she opened her mouth to speak … and instead saw him blink suddenly, his eyes opening in surprise afterwards as he began to stammer, "Do you mean … are you saying … Bry are you telling me that … that …"

Bryallyn tried not to laugh at his reaction. Simply offering him a slightly amused smile, she teased lightly, "Are you not happy for me, Bann Teagan?"

"Of … of course, my lady! I'm just … I mean … Oh, Maker's breath!" He stood suddenly then, almost shooting to his feet as if a bolt from a crossbow as fast and straight as he was.

This time, Bryallyn did giggle softly. Reaching out, she placed a hand on his arm once more and squeezed tightly for a moment. "I think you of all people can completely understand the nature of my situation," she told him sincerely then, her eyes seeking his. When he glanced down at her, she could see the startled look in his eyes. Rising to her feet then, she reminded him, "Teagan, I am an outlaw, according to Loghain. I am a Warden and I am also carrying the last of the Cousland line."

Teagan breathed in and held it for a long moment. The heavy release of breath that followed next contained much of the same frustration that Bryallyn herself had been facing these past several months. "How can I help?" he asked immediately and without preamble. "Name it, Bry, and it will be yours."

Bryallyn slid her hand down to clasp firmly around his for a moment. "Teagan, thank you," she whispered in a choked voice. "You will never truly know how much that means to me, I think."

Teagan pulled her close into a warm hug and murmured near her ear, "I think I can, Bry. Your brother and father were two of the best friends I could ever have hoped for. And though I did not know him long, your husband was a man I could respect and I feel sure we would have been the same." The smile he gave her was sad, as it should be, but also one filled with promise and hope. "Since they are not able to offer you assistance when you are in need, it shall be I to do so. Else," he added with a somewhat teasing and sheepish grin, "I may not be able to face any of them in the Fade one day."

Bryallyn laughed through her tears then, lifting her hand to wipe them away. "Ser, I'd be more worried at my mother's reaction if I were you!" she returned. Teagan's laughter then assured her he had taken the comment as intended.

Settling his hands upon her shoulders, Teagan gave Bryallyn a harder look. "In all seriousness, Bry, when your time is near … come to Rainesfere. Whether I am there or here will not matter, but you will find safety and security there, and I will guarantee your security either way. You know this. Rainesfere has always been a friend to Highever."

The tears started again and though Wynne had told her to expect the weepiness, Bryallyn was quickly becoming frustrated with it. But his words were truth, that much she did know. "Thank you," she finally managed. "I will definitely keep that in mind." Straightening, she reached for the tome on the history of the Grey Wardens and turned back to face him. "I do not know about you, Teagan, but I am exhausted. Perhaps we can meet again in the morning with the rest of my team and formulate a plan of action from there?"

Tucking her arm around his, Teagan led her from the library and in the direction of her rooms. "It shall be done, my lady," he promised.


	55. Wilder Folk

_Many thanks to those who keep reading, reviewing and lurking, also those setting favs and alerts including: Erynnar, ProsePrincess, BearMage, Liso66, and naomi8329._

_Also, could not have done this without the help and support from some fabulous betas! **MireliAmbar, Liso66 **and **Erynnar** this time around! Thank you my friends!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N:** Musical Inspiration: *sighs* okay, needing to broaden horizons some more musically, so if anyone has suggestions, let me know! In the meantime, this chapter was inspired by "Meet Me In Montana" by Marie Osmond (yes, you read that right) and Dan Seals; "Nowhere Fast" from the movie Streets of Fire; "Watercolour" by Pendulum; and "Gemini Dream" by the Moody Blues because my husband (a Gemini) snuck it into the playlist! :) Thanks, hon!_

* * *

The journey west took them longer than they had originally thought due at first to the terrain and then later to weather. Marshy swamp-like areas, twisting and twining rivers and streams that often had them turning further south instead of north, and ultimately the slopes and valleys of somewhat mountainous terrain as they inched closer and closer to the west and the Frostback mountains. Along the way they saw no signs that any others had been through before them, but given that their map was much less detailed than the conditions surrounding them, there could have been any number of ways that Highever's best had traveled and they would be none the wiser.

They were currently looking to cross yet another river, one that had them making their way through semi-mountainous areas in order to find a crossing. Nathaniel had lost track of the days by then since they had left Ostagar. It could have been days or weeks or months even, he had no clue any longer as one day seemed to bleed right on into the next, their surroundings changing only slightly from day to day. At one point, he had caught himself wondering if they might be going in circles it looked so much like what they had seen just the day before.

They traveled from dawn to dusk on most days, and on others, usually when the rain was making conditions too difficult to traverse, they would find an elevated spot on which to camp. Food had been an issue early on, the longer they remained near to Ostagar, as most creatures they came upon had been tainted by the blight sickness that they had seen overtaking the land before bypassing Lothering. But the further west they pushed, the more taint-free creatures they were able to find, and food became more plentiful, if not wide in variety. There were only so many days in a row one could be expected to eat rabbit stew with potatoes and wild onions, after all.

There was no evidence that they were nearing any larger encampment or villages either as they went, and so their reliance upon the land became essential. Every time they came upon a free flowing river, they would refill water, wash clothing and bathe. Any herbs that were found, and there were some that they came upon that were recognizable, particularly elfroot, were harvested and set out to dry or were packed away safely in a pouch or medical kit. Poultices and bandages were kept as a last resort should there be a need if they were to find themselves in battle, but thankfully (or not) the land seemed free of people. Never had Nathaniel seen an emptier more Maker-forsaken place than the Korcari Wilds.

Until mid-morning nearing two months since Lothering (according to Trinion whom Nathaniel was relying upon to keep an accurate count of the days) when from one moment to the next, as they began descending one mountain path, Nathaniel and Grayson who were on point suddenly came face to face with two of the strangest people they had ever encountered. It did not take Nathaniel long to realize that the two standing before them were of one of the Chasind tribes. The painted faces, feathers, beads and small stone amulet type items woven into garments and hair gave that away immediately. The two before them were of a young age, most likely younger than Nathaniel, though he could not be certain. The one troubling factor, however, was the difficulty in communication, for it became quite clear from the first that the two wanted to speak with them. However, the Chasind spoke a language the likes of which no one in their group had ever heard before. The hand gestures that accompanied the spoken language were not of much help at first, until Nathaniel caught a word that sounded somewhat familiar.

At the time, Nathaniel lifted a hand in a halting motion, asking them to stop. Then he made a 'repeat' type of a gesture with his hand, turning it around at the wrist in a circular sort of motion. This time it took the Chasind a few moments before they realized what Nathaniel was attempting to tell them, but in the end, they repeated the word. This time, Nathaniel glanced over at Trinion who nodded. This time he had heard it too. When pronounced, it came out sounding something like "H'ev'er." Nathaniel nodded and slowly, clearly spoke the word back to them. "Highever." The pair of nodding heads confirmed Nathaniel's suspicions: these boys (or men) were of a tribe that had come upon some men of Highever.

When next the two began gesturing for Nathaniel and his group to follow them, Nathaniel found himself glancing over at Trinion first and then Rhyan. Both agreed, and Nathaniel nodded at the two Chasind who began leading them further south. Though this was a bit concerning, Nathaniel knew that if it meant finding anyone of Highever, it would be worth it. Not only would it enhance their numbers, but it could also give them an indication of which direction the rest (for certainly there had to be others) might have gone.

The trip took them most of the rest of the day, again following the lay of the land, bending rivers and streams, rolling hills, even around a boggy like area. At one point, near mid-afternoon, Nathaniel realized that there was only one of the men leading them, and he realized he had not seen the other depart. He glanced over at Grayson who simply shrugged his shoulders indicating he had not noticed either. Despite this, however, they were able to keep moving at a fairly quick pace so that by the time evening began to fall, they were being led into a clearing … an empty, open clearing. Gesturing to the members of the group to set their things aside and rest, their Chasind guide approached Nathaniel. He made a grunting sort of noise, one which Nathaniel had to shake his head at to indicate he did not understand. Again, the man made the sound, but this time he held up two fingers and then pointed up. It was at that point that Nathaniel glanced up … and up … and up until he realized that there was movement in the trees above. And then it began to fall into place.

As a child, Adria had read books to Nathaniel and his siblings, some of which revolved around tales of the Chasind Wilder folk. One of the things he had vague recollections of, and really should have remembered before this as it had fascinated him so, were the stories of the tribes that had their homes built up in the trees. However, the stories and matching fascination had apparently grown out of him as he had aged … but now he was about to have proof. Lowering his head, the man made the noise one more time, showed Nathaniel two fingers and then pointed upwards once more. Nodding, as he now understood, Nathaniel ordered the rest of the group to remain here. "Trinion and I will go determine the situation." Trinion nodded. Of course Nathaniel would ask him, he knew the men of Highever.

Nathaniel gestured to the Chasind to lead the way on, noting as he did so that several other members of the tribe were approaching now, offering food and drink to Rhyan and the others. At least this would give them time to rest up after the day's journey.

"Dare I mention, my lord," Trinion murmured as they followed the warrior to a nearby series of woven rope ladders, "that I have this unnatural fear of heights?"

Nathaniel chuckled just a bit as he began climbing after the man, carefully grasping with his hands and placing his feet as he went. "Don't look down then," he advised, taking his own advice and keeping his view upwards as they climbed. It was not that he had a fear of heights, per se, but rather a greater appreciation for keeping his body intact.

After reaching the platform and pulling himself through the opening at the top of the ladder, Nathaniel offered a hand down to Trinion who took it. Both men straightened then and glanced around, now able to see more clearly the layout before them. It was a stunning picture, Nathaniel thought. The ingenuity that had to have gone into a set up like this … a whole community that lived above the ground and in the trees?

Soon the two men were being led away, down a narrow path of sorts, built among the branches and limbs of the trees. As they moved, Nathaniel noticed two things: first, everything was made of natural products. The platforms and 'paths' were of wooden planking tied down by vines or woven ropes of some sort. The second thing he noticed was that each tree appeared to house one building, and that building was created around the tree, conforming to the shape that the branches had decided to grow. There was no symmetry except what nature dictated, but that did not detract from the natural beauty of the building. In fact, it only added to it.

Finally, some minutes later, their guide came to a halt before a doorway. The gesture he gave them was to wait, which they did, as he stepped inside, pushing the hanging fur cover to the side in order to do so. While they waited, Nathaniel glanced over at Trinion. Both men appeared to be just as affected by their surroundings as the other. Nathaniel decided that he would speak to his friend later regarding it all.

A soft voice called to them then, and both men turned, startled, to find a young woman before them. Nathaniel estimated her to be slightly taller than Bryallyn. Her long, black hair fell behind her shoulders, a mixture of beads and feathers woven into various strands of her hair. Her clothing was made of tanned hides, and its beauty lay in its simple cut and design made of quills on the surface of the hide. "Please," she told them, gesturing towards the doorway.

Nathaniel blinked. "You … you speak Fereldan?" he managed after a moment.

The woman blushed slightly, but nodded. Using her thumb and forefinger to show a small space between, she told them, "Some."

Nathaniel nodded, understanding dawning. She was limited in what she could tell them. Presumably, whomever it was that was inside had been teaching her his language. Turning, Nathaniel stepped through the doorway.

He was quite surprised to find just how spacious it was inside the small 'hut.' The room was large enough for several beds, spread around the outer edges of the room, with a cooking fire in the center. Around the space hung various-sized bags made out of animal hides, and in a nearby area set back from the main room appeared to be a space that stored cooking items. Lighting, despite the lack of windows or openings other than a vent for smoke from the fire above them, was given by several small hanging lanterns which, like everything else Nathaniel had seen, appeared to be made from natural products. Tallow, he supposed, wicks made from moss or something along those lines. He had a vague recollection of learning simple ways in which to survive out in the 'wilds' from his youth and his training under Arl Bryland.

Trinion entered behind him, followed by the woman who had bid them enter. Stepping inside further to allow them room to move in, Nathaniel spotted the guide who had led them here across the way, sitting beside one of the primitive beds and assisting the person lying there with a drink. Nathaniel felt his breath catch for a moment. Their Highever man? he wondered. Glancing over at the woman, she smiled again and gestured both men to move in that direction.

Trinion moved without delay, stepping in front of Nathaniel and crossing the room. Nathaniel allowed this, after all the man knew his men better than Nathaniel did, but he followed close behind. As they approached, their guide rose from his seat and stepped back to give them room. A moment or two later, Nathaniel glanced over his shoulder to see that he and the woman exited the enclosure altogether.

At the sound of Trinion's gasp of shock, Nathaniel's head snapped back around. "My … my lord!" The raspy nature of the man's tone had Nathaniel thinking that he was trying to get Nathaniel's attention, but the moment that Nathaniel's gaze lifted, he realized his mistake. Taking in the man lying before him, covered in bandages and furs, Nathaniel found his own breath difficult to pull in and he struggled for a moment beneath a wave of emotion so intense the only thing comparable in his life so far was that of his wedding day. "Fergus!"

* * *

Fergus had lost count of the days during his time with the Chasind. He did recall the ambush by the darkspawn, the sound of his patrol as they fought valiantly against the might of a greater foe, and as he lost consciousness that day, he could hear the battle continuing on around him. Whether any others survived that encounter, he had no idea for the next he knew, he was opening his eyes in surroundings completely unfamiliar to him.

The first days and weeks here had been spent in agony. Injuries that, he soon discovered, were much more serious than he had ever encountered before either on his own person or seen on others, challenged him in ways he never had been before. A head injury appeared, for all intents and purposes, to be a superficial wound. A bandage had been wrapped around his head to hold a poultice against his left temple, and his vision had been blurred for a while, but within two weeks the worst of it had passed, the bandage removed, and only a jagged scar running from his hairline down past his left cheekbone remained. His vision, too, had cleared about the same time much to his relief. It appeared the scar would remain, but little other damage there.

Unfortunately, that could not be said of his other injuries. His shield arm had been broken along his forearm. While not as severe an injury as it could have been, and the bone was knitting up well, the arm remained weak. It would take work and exercises to strengthen it, but Fergus had hopes that he could regain his former agility and abilities.

The worst of the injuries, however, and the one that had Fergus wondering if he would ever battle with sword and shield again, or any weapon for that matter, was the one to his right leg. He doubted he would ever forget the moment that the hurlock's sword managed to evade the metal plate and pierce through the chainmail and into his right thigh. The pain itself had been nearly enough to make him lose consciousness, but the way that the beast had flung him off of his weapon, hurling him into the trunk of a nearby tree had been what had finished that job. From what little he had been able to determine since that time, he had been unconscious for about two weeks thanks to infection setting into the wound. Even all these weeks later, though the fever had finally been beaten (and it had taken nearly two months for that battle to be won) the wound was still having difficulties healing properly. Whether that was a product of the weapon used, the nature of the injury itself, or some combination of the two, he just did not know.

Fergus had no recollection of the Chasind who had found him, though he thought he must have regained consciousness for at least a moment or two as he had vague, hazy memories of being carried on some sort of a stretcher-like device. The next time he had woken, though, he had found himself in a wooden hut, somewhat similar to his current surroundings and yet different. Over the following weeks, he had been moved (by same stretcher) three times, each time further away from Ostagar, the tainted lands and darkspawn, and more importantly, his men. Arrival at his current location had happened about three weeks before (he was pretty sure), and since that time he had made every effort possible to communicate with this particular tribe. He had met warriors, shamen and healers, all who made the attempt, and yet the only one with whom he had encountered any sort of success had been the young healer, K'danya.

Though he had suspected that scouts had been sent out to try and make contact with settlements somewhere (he had no idea where exactly he even was after all of the moving around), he now could admit that finding himself staring at two men whom he never thought he would see again was a bit disconcerting. Swallowing, Fergus offered the best attempt at a smile he could give at that time. "If you are both here, and I am not hallucinating, you must have returned from your travels to the Free Marches." Fergus watched both men nod in response to his question. "So … why then are you here?"

"One might ask that of you as well, my lord," Trinion countered. "We were confronted by two Chasind scouts who led us to this location, though we did not know it was to find you at the time. We were searching for any Highever troops who had survived the defeat at Ostagar and might have headed towards Rainesfere."

The silence that surrounded the three then was a heavy one. Fergus' shoulders visibly slumped at this news. "Defeat?" he echoed quietly. Staring down at his hands, Fergus sighed. "It was as I had feared, then." He shifted his position just a bit, to ease some of the ache settling in his leg wound, before looking back up at them.

Fergus could see a flicker of emotions flitting behind Nathaniel's eyes. Bracing himself for the inevitable barrage of questions that would follow, he explained, "I was not at the actual battle myself. I was leading a patrol in the Korcari Wilds beforehand and we were ambushed." He gestured towards his legs. "I was found afterwards, I know not how long, by some Chasind who for whatever reason decided to rescue me and heal me." He sighed heavily and sunk back into the furs piled behind him as a sort of pillow. "As far as I know, I am the only one to survive."

Fergus was surprised when both Trinion and Nathaniel remained silent instead of asking for further information. He found himself reflecting back on Trinion's words then, _We were searching for any Highever troops who had survived the defeat at Ostagar and might have headed towards Rainesfere,_ which led him to wonder. He struggled to sit up a bit further then, intending to ask his own questions, when K'danya entered the hut once more, this time carrying food and drink on a somewhat flat piece of wood. He recognized the smell coming from one of those cups then. Flinching, he glanced up at Nathaniel. "Apparently, it is time for my medicine," he murmured somewhat sourly. He saw a tell-tale twitch at the edge of Nathaniel's mouth, before taking the cup that K'danya handed him.

The next few moments were spent with K'danya assisting Fergus into a more comfortable seated position on his bed before giving him a hard look. Fergus sighed. _Still adamant about playing healer_,_ are you?_ he challenged silently. The slightly smug smile in her eyes before she left told him that she understood exactly what he had been thinking. Rolling his eyes and carefully sipping at the medicinal tea, Fergus looked over at the two men once more as K'danya left them once more. "So, you're looking for our troops then? Was father able to retreat from Ostagar before losing too many?"

Again more silence, he noted. And then he saw a look pass between Trinion and Nathaniel and was surprised to hear Nathaniel suggest, "Trinion, why don't you go bring the others up to date on what we have found here."

"As you wish, my lord." Trinion looked at Fergus then and nodded. "Your grace."

Fergus could only watch the man exit as he stared on in silence. And then suddenly ... _Wait … Your grace?_ His eyes darting up towards Nathaniel, Fergus felt cold chills of dread shoot down his spine. Unable to stop the harshness in his tone, he demanded, "Tell me what happened."


	56. Ambush!

_Just a quick word on this chapter: we all know the cutscene where Zevran and his companions ambush the Warden. This is my take on what comes after. Some of the dialogue used below are bits and pieces of actually dialogue conversations between characters from the game. _

_Thank you to all who have been reading, reviewing and lurking, as well as those setting alerts including: Erynnar, Liso66, ProsePrincess, naomi8329, BabyInf3rno, Pollyanna24, and KiroAngel159. Your continued interest humbles me and your comments are, as always, very welcome!_

_Again huge thanks to my fabulous betas: **Liso66, MireliAmbar **and **Erynnar**. Couldn't do it without you!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …._

_**A/N:** Musical Inspiration: In honor of our intrepid Crow, the following choices were listened to: "I Fought the Law and the Law Won" by the Bobby Fuller Four, "Renegade" by Styx, "(Don't Fear) the Reaper" by Blue Oyster Cult, and "Surrender" by Cheap Trick._

* * *

"You're not seriously thinking of allowing him to come along with us … are you?"

Bryallyn bit back a sigh. She'd lost count how many times Alistair had asked her that. Even Morrigan's comments earlier that afternoon had been somewhat … dubious of her decision. But she was the one leading them and, as she had pointed out at the time, they needed all the help they could get. It wasn't so much that she wanted to bring him along, but …

"Do you remember the old saying, Alistair, 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend?'" Bryallyn asked.

"Yes," he agreed readily enough. "And I also know the one that goes, 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,' but I would hardly go so far as to call Zevran a friend."

Silently, Bry had to give him an A+ for that remark. Not that she hadn't recalled it, but that he'd managed to pull it out so quickly and in response to hers.

"I mean, he's a poisonous bastard, and in more ways than one."

Bry smirked softly at that. For Alistair to use that word was telling her just how immediate his concern was.

"Quite right you are, my friend."

Bry sighed this time. Throughout the discussions, the assassin always seemed to be nearby and listening in, adding his own input which was not helping matters. It wasn't that he was rude, she thought. Leliana had started out in her own pleasant manner with him, but quickly went on guard as the man had bantered back in a somewhat suggestive and flirtatious manner. Not that Leliana couldn't watch after herself. From the beginning, the bard had shown just how capable she was.

"Zevran?"

Zevran stepped closer then, falling into step as they walked along the roadway. "Si, my beautiful Warden?"

Bryallyn could almost feel the rippling irritation as it coiled through Alistair, which she found somewhat amusing just then since his reaction kept her from allowing her own to escape. She could almost hear him saying,_ "See? This is exactly what I mean!"_ However, rather than waiting for him to say something aloud, Bry reached out with her left hand, she grasping his forearm and squeezed. Though it was difficult to do over the splitmail armor, she finally did hear the soft sigh of exasperation that Alistair emitted and knew that her point had been made. Turning her attention back to the elf, Bryallyn continued, "As you will be traveling with us, for now at least," she gave him a hard glare to remind him that this was at her whim, "I would suggest that you take great care when eavesdropping into private conversations."

Bry eyed Zevran more closely for a long moment then, their eyes meeting just about the same level, and though neither's facial expression changed much, the tension around them did seem to ease just a bit, at least until Zevran gave a slight smirk and murmured, "As you wish, my Warden," before dropping back and deciding to make a go at trying to talk with the Qunari. Bryallyn was not sure exactly if she had made her point or not, but at least for the immediate future, Sten would be taking the pressure off of her whether he wanted to or not.

* * *

They managed to find a somewhat protected area off the main road where they could make camp that night. Surrounded on one side by a copse of trees and two others by varying sizes of rock outcroppings, there was a water source nearby and plenty of downed branches that they could see near the treeline to feed the campfire. The space was large enough to accommodate Morrigan's need to separate herself from the others as well.

It also apparently was not an unknown way stop. As the group moved further off the road and into the camp area, Bryallyn noted that there was already a wagon settled off to the side. Though there did not appear to be a lot of activity, As Bry reached out to signal Alistair that they should approach with caution until they knew who it was, a voice called out, "Ah, and there she is! Well, my friend, it is good to see you safe and well around these parts."

Any nerves that might have cautioned her upon approach soon vanished at the familiarity of the voice. "Bodahn!" she called out in greeting, tossing a smile at Alistair who also grinned. "What news have you from the road?"

As the two Wardens paused to speak with the trader and his son, Sandal, the rest of their company began the process of setting up camp for the night. Tents were put together, the fire built and wood gathered, water retrieved and the meal preparations begun. By the time dinner was ready, the camp had taken on a somewhat comfortable and cozy feel, or at least as much of one as such a place could display given that it represented life on the road and away from home.

After the meal, Bryallyn set the watch rotation and those who were not currently on guard either went their own ways towards their tents for rest or sat about the fire to work on various and sundry things including the cleaning of weapons and armor. Bryallyn and Leliana gathered their things and headed off towards the water source, taking the dishes along with them as this was to be a cleaning run. Alistair also rose to assist, carrying the heavier pans. Constant, faithful as ever, trotted along after.

It was at this point when the assassin found himself left quite alone with the mage who, it appeared, had pulled out some yarn and needles and was … knitting? Finding himself curiously fascinated, Zevran scooted over to sit beside her. "What is that you have there?" he asked.

Wynne, her wits still as alert as ever despite her advancing age, merely lifted an eyebrow at him. "This?" she asked while lifting the knitting needles and the project attached to them. When she saw him nod, she simply replied, "It is my most recent project. I find that the activity allows me to expend any restless energy at the end of a day and will often allow my mind to work into a state of relaxation in order to sleep." Which really was a fancy way of telling the elf to mind his own business, she supposed, but it was not necessary for him to know the real meaning behind her project.

"Hmmm," he mused as he sat back and took a drink from his cup. "From my experience," he chuckled as he saw her brows arch again, "there are very few reasons for such … activities. Most of them have to do with the impending arrival of smaller feet."

Wynne could not hold back a snort at that thought. "Oh, and I am to believe that you have experience with that?" She saw him shrug noncommittally. "I would have thought that your career choice would have made situations such as those undesirable. I have been led to believe over the years that the Crows do not … encourage such things. Or am I mistaken?"

Zevran's laugh was dry, but not without a tinge of humor. "No, my dear woman, you are not mistaken. But suffice it to say that the Crows are not so bad, overall. They do keep one well supplied with … wine, women … even men. Whatever you happen to fancy." He gave the mage a wicked grin and then added, "Though, I must say that the whole severance package is garbage. If you were ever considering joining, I'd really think twice about it."

Wynne snorted softly at his jest and simply moved the conversation forward. "Tell me, Zevran, why is it that you decided to join us? Is it dissatisfaction with the job? A guilty conscience? Or simply the fact that you were beaten?"

Sighing over-dramatically, Zevran leant back against the log that had been used as a bench during the meal and stared up at the ever darkening sky. "I will admit," he told her at length, "that having been defeated by a woman, and such a magnificently talented one as your Warden, has intrigued me."

Wynne felt the hair on the back of her neck bristle then. "Well, I hope that your 'intrigue' is not the sort to lead you into … temptation, so to speak," she told him rather officiously.

Zevran felt his pointed ears perk just a bit. He sensed a story there. "Oh?"

Wynne glowered at him then. "I am highly suggesting that you keep your nosiness to yourself in that regard, Zevran," she told him sternly. "She has been through an incredibly rough time these past few months and certainly does not need any further stresses to add to it. You should be counting yourself fortunate simply to be alive."

"Oh, that I am, my dear woman," he told her, his curiosity now thoroughly piqued. Rising to his feet, he stretched and set his cup aside. "If you will excuse me?" He did not wait for a reply before turning to wander off. He paused briefly by his tent, reaching inside to grasp a few items, before turning to head towards the water. And perhaps, if he was lucky enough, he might just get lucky for a second time that day.

* * *

Alistair had assisted Leliana and Bryallyn with the transportation of the heavy cookware that needed cleaning. Whether Bryallyn knew or not, he had kept in mind her condition, and he was determined to keep an eye out for her, as he was certain her husband would have done … had he been here … and as she appeared determined not to do, if her decision that afternoon had been any indication. He still could not believe that she had allowed the assassin to live. Her argument that they needed what help they could find was valid, he did give her credit for that, but … how could she just let the fact that the man had not only tried to kill her (and by association her child) but him as well, and their fellow companions go by?

As they had made their way to the edge of the pond, he had tried to broach the topic with her. However, either by earlier agreement between them or simply by acting on her own, Leliana had given him a look that brooked no argument. Reluctantly, Alistair had agreed to let it drop for the moment and taken up a watch position. The dishes had been cleaned quickly and then set aside. What came next was the real reason Alistair had accompanied them: to provide watch for them as the two women then bathed themselves. Constant, too, took up his duty, wandering in and out of the brush and trees as he followed his path around the area.

They had been at it for a while when Alistair heard a soft, rumbling growl, growing ever louder as the hound neared his position. "What is it, boy?" Alistair asked carefully, still unsure if the hound would cooperate with him. The last time he'd tried 'talking' with the hound, back at camp, he'd been on the receiving end of a very stiff nip of his hand.

Constant barked then, a somewhat soft sound, but loud and strong enough to alert Alistair that something or some_one_ unexpected was approaching. Turning towards the path, the direction that the mabari was facing and projecting his vocal annoyances, Alistair called out, "Show yourself!"

Until this day, Alistair had not realized that one could chuckle with an accent. However, the moment that the sound was made audible, he had known it for the man who had so recently joined their group. "Oh, it's you."

Zevran's chuckle seemed to be even more amused now. "And so it is."

Alistair heard Constant rumble again beside him, watched as the Antivan seemed to eye the hound a bit warily. _Good. At least we are in agreement. _"Why are you here?" he asked then, wondering if the elf would give him a straight answer. From the first, it did not seem as if it would be possible. Everything the assassin said was slanted or filled with innuendo or meant to disarm, dissuade or distract. _Leliana … I'm afraid those lessons are going to be difficult to remember …._

"I am here, my friend, because our Warden friend allowed me to be."

Alistair sighed. _Will you never …._ Constant barked sharply then and Alistair glanced briefly down at the animal. He seemed intent upon what the elf was carrying. Lifting his gaze towards that, Alistair realized what Zevran's intentions had been. _Right._ "Well, you'll need to go back to camp for now," he finally managed, his gaze narrowing just a bit. "You can clean up after they're done."

Zevran smirked. "Why, my friend, why did you not say so! Far be it from me to interfere in your little assignations."

The smug grin on the elf's face was making Alistair's eye twitch, of that he was certain. _Assignations?_ Alistair could feel the heat creeping up his neck at the thought. Thankfully, it was dark enough that it shouldn't be noticeable … he hoped. Glaring harder at the elf, Alistair was surprised to hear the man ask, "Still with the stern glances, Alistair?"

Alistair's frown deepened. He needed to find a topic to discuss that would be safe. Or, as safe as possible when speaking with someone like Zevran. "Tell me … why did the Crows send you? Why didn't they send their best men?"

Though he saw the elf blink in response to his demand, it did not seem to phase him much. "And for this I must suffer all of these fearsome glares? You are cruel to subject me to such torture."

Another growl from Constant then, as if to remind the elf that Alistair was the one asking the question and that he, the elf, had better answer. Making a mental note to find the hound some sort of treat later to thank him for backing him up, Alistair reasoned, "Well, if you aren't telling me, it must be for a reason, right?"

Zevran gave an exaggerated sigh then. "If you must know, the masters do not often take contracts outside of Antiva. And I made the best bid."

That caught the Warden off guard for a moment. "Best bid?"

Zevran nodded. "We agree to pay the guild a portion of whatever the contract offers. The one who agrees to pay the most receives the contract as long as the guild deems them worthy."

Alistair wondered if his skepticism showed. He supposed to a Crow, it probably would. "And they thought you were worthy?"

Another nod. "Against a pair of Grey Warden recruits? Apparently so."

Curiosity finally getting the better of him, Alistair asked, "Were there many who wanted the contract?"

A sort of smile played at the elf's features then. "None. You are still Grey Wardens, after all, and even in Antiva, killing members of your order is considered … impolitic. It made the guild's decision considerably easier, I imagine."

"Hmm," Alistair mused, his glance meeting the hound's for a moment. "That's comforting … somehow, I suppose."

Another slightly sinister chuckle, or at least one that certainly meant something more than Alistair thought it should. "But not as comforting as your lovely young companions out there, si?"

And there it was. All the efforts that Alistair had been making in keeping his composure … right … down … the … drain. Alistair heard Zevran's chuckle deepen and knew that the elf _knew_ what he was doing. "They're not … I'm not … Oh, Maker's BREATH!" With his exasperated sigh, it even sounded like the hound began laughing at him then, too.

* * *

Leliana glanced over at Bryallyn and giggled softly, her hand lifting to cover her mouth to keep the sound from traveling.

"You have been working with him, yes?" Bryallyn asked, though her voice, too, was tinged with amusement.

"It was as you asked me, yes," the bard agreed, "though even if he does ever manage to learn how to do so, I do not believe it will be of use. He does not understand the concept of keeping quiet!"

Bryallyn giggled this time and Leliana followed suit. "I just want him to be able to not have to deal with blushing every time you or Morrigan or now, apparently, Zevran, decides to tease him mercilessly! I don't expect him to suddenly learn any rogue skills!" As she exited the water and began drying off and dressing then, Bryallyn couldn't help but wonder if someday the skills might be useful for her brother Warden. Alistair was a great friend and a very sweet, if a somewhat sheltered and innocent, friend.

Leliana followed suit and soon the two were gathering up their belongings and retracing their steps until they reached Alistair, Zevran and Constant. Alistair must have heard them approaching, for he turned to face them and Bryallyn could see a light of relief in his eyes as he realized who it was. "I will get the rest of the things," he said hastily before scurrying off to do just that.

Swallowing her amusement, Bryallyn elbowed Leliana as the bard giggled loud enough to tempt the ranger in the same direction. Swallowing her amusement, however, Bryallyn gestured Constant forward and murmured as she passed Zevran, "The water is all yours." By the time she neared the edge of the camp, she, Leliana, Constant and Alistair, a bit out of breath as he had hurried to catch up, all entered together.


	57. Blasts From the Past

_I believe I shall be slowing down just a bit after this chapter, but hopefully not for long. The next chapter is a bit of a turning point and the muses of the parties involved are still hashing it out with each other, sorry to say! However, I am hoping it will be up before the week is up. :)_

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked as well as those setting alerts including: ProsePrincess, BearMage, and Erynnar. Betas this time around - huge thanks to **Liso66** and **Erynnar**!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N:** Musical Inspiration: "Bring Me To Life" by Evanescence, "Cruel to Be Kind" by Nick Lowe, "I Will Survive" by Gloria Gaynor, and "Stronger" by Kelly Clarkson._

* * *

By the time the party neared Denerim, Zevran had become an accepted, if not entirely welcome, addition to their little 'family,' which Bryallyn found to be somewhat amusing, particularly when the elf was able to make some remark that even caught the likes of Wynne or Leliana off guard to such an extent that the resulting frustrations were more than obvious upon their faces. It took a lot of extra effort on Bryallyn's part to not laugh at their distress or at the smug look Zevran always had afterwards.

The night before entering the capital city, they made camp nearby but more set off of the road than usual since the highway in these parts would be so well traveled. While they did not want to go to extra lengths to exactly hide their presence, neither did they want it openly advertised. They made their camp, ate their meal and before setting the watch that night, Bryallyn called them all together.

Once all had settled and their eyes were upon her, Bryallyn began to brief them. "We have much to accomplish and very few of us with whom to make that happen and only one day in which to accomplish it," she explained. "So, while we are here, we will each have certain assignments to make certain we forget nothing. Agreed?" Apparently, her no-nonsense attitude was being taken seriously. "Good." Pulling out a piece of parchment from her pack, Bryallyn opened it up before them. On it, over the past few days, she had been reconstructing a map of the city of Denerim from memory. She hoped she had everything labeled right.

"The trick is going to be," she continued, "to get in and out of the city without being noticed for who and what we are by the guards." At some soft rumblings among her group, Bry glanced up. With a smirk, she added, "For the most part, I think we'll be okay. The guards in the city do not have the best reputation for being … observant, despite any additional measures Loghain might have put into place."

Alistair snorted. "That's one way to put it." He had briefed Bryallyn the night before on what he knew. Before heading to Ostagar with the rest of the Wardens, Duncan had brought them all to Denerim to the Warden compound there. During his time in the city, Alistair had roamed around and observed. It was those observations he had shared with her.

Turning her attention back to the map, Bryallyn began to point out certain locations. "First and foremost, we need to see about finding some sort of work where we can earn some coin. We have some things we can trade," she reminded them while referring to the weapons, armor and other sundries they had collected from the defeated darkspawn along the way and other bandits who had dared challenge them. Teagan had also given her a small sum to assist, but Bryallyn kept that in reserve, for emergency purposes. It never hurt to be ready for a 'just in case' situation. "I think if we check around the Market District, we should be able to find some work. Also," and Bryallyn glanced over at Sten for this, "there could be some opportunities down at the docks where they might need someone to assist with heavy loading and such." She saw Sten nod somewhat reluctantly.

"Zevran, I'd like you and Morrigan -" Bry paused and glanced up at the apostate briefly when she heard a dryly muttered, "Oh goody." "Problem?" she asked.

"Of course not, my dear Warden," Zevran assured her with his usual flair and a soft chuckle. "Now, what is it you wish for us to do, hmm?"

"I want you and Morrigan to go here," she pointed to a small alleyway near the center of the marketplace. "The shop is called _The Wonders of Thedas_, and should have many of the components that Morrigan and Wynne use and will need." She handed over a 'shopping' list of sorts. Wynne had put it together before they had broke camp that morning. "My concern, Zev," she told him honestly when she noted a slight lack of interest there, "is in keeping you out of sight of any Crows who might be around." She had taken his words to heart when he told her that, having failed in his mission to kill her and Alistair, the Crows would want him dead instead. Zevran snorted, but nodded once in compliance and said nothing more. Even Morrigan was suspiciously quiet on the subject.

Turning to face Alistair and Leliana then, Bryallyn told them, "We will be taking care of certain … personal matters first and then we'll see about finding Brother Genitivi and then some work, hmm?"

Alistair was the first to nod his agreement, a look of appreciation mixed with relief crossing his features. When he had mentioned his sister and hinted that he had wanted to find her if they made it to Denerim, Bryallyn had mentally made a note to make sure that it happened. After all, family was family, whether they knew you or not, and she supposed her own current circumstances played into it, but she was adamant that this one thing did happen for him.

As for Leliana …. Bryallyn glanced over at the bard. She was quiet, more withdrawn than usual, and Bryallyn could understand why. Not two days before they had been ambushed yet again, though this time it had been mercenaries who, according to Leliana, had been sent by her former bard master. The leader of the group had provided them with an address, and though it seemed to be a rather obvious trap, after further conversation between the two both Bryallyn and Leliana had agreed that the situation would need to be dealt with as soon as possible.

"Any further questions?" Bryallyn asked then, looking at each individual and verifying for herself. No one seemed to have anything, and so she nodded and rolled her map up. "Good. We'll get underway just after dawn, I think," she explained. "I think we all will have a very busy day ahead of us."

* * *

"Busy" didn't begin to describe it by half. After breaking their fast and taking down their camp, the party set forth the last couple of miles towards the capital city. They entered in separate groups to hide the fact that they were together but, despite what they assumed would be increased security by Loghain and (as it turned out) Howe in his new role of Arl of Denerim, they were allowed entrance through the gates. A short while later, they met one last time in a darkened alleyway some distance into the city. "We will meet back at the campsite this evening," Bryallyn reminded them quietly after one last briefing. "Good luck to us."

After the group split up, Bryallyn along with Constant, Alistair, Leliana and Wynne turned towards the Market District where, according to Alistair's information, they found the home of his sister … the harpy queen. After a brief discussion in which the woman only seemed to be interested in having a sibling if she could get money out of it, Bryallyn gently suggested to Alistair that they leave. When the woman turned on her then, making wild suggestions regarding Bry's and Alistair's relationship, Bryallyn nearly turned to snap at Goldanna herself. However, Alistair jumped in and soon thereafter was guiding his companions outside once more. Bryallyn watched Leliana and Wynne wander off a short distance - still nearby if needed, but giving privacy so that Bry could speak with Alistair - before she turned to face him. Looking up at him, Bryallyn felt a mixture of anger and dread and several other feelings bubbling through her just then. "Alistair, I'm -"

"Don't," he told her quietly. "Bry, just … don't." He gave her a lopsided smile then that she could see was less than complete, and she could not help but reach out for his hand to squeeze it reassuringly. She was encouraged when he squeezed it back, just hard enough so that she would know he was okay.

Speaking softly, Bryallyn tried again. "Alistair, I hate to say it, but she is the proof that some people are just out for themselves." She heard him sigh, felt a slight tremor run through him then, and she added softly, "Perhaps the 'proof is in the pudding' as the saying goes?"

Alistair blinked in confusion. "The proof is in the - Oh." He smirked a bit then. "You mean I should learn that, don't you?"

Bry offered him a warm smile. "It might make dealing with people in future a bit easier," she offered. It was, after all, something she had learned at a very young age as well.

One last, heavy sigh, and Alistair nodded. "I may not like it, but yes … I think you might be right at that, Bry." She watched him try to refocus then and felt her smile widen as he seemed to settle himself. Shoulders back, standing tall. "Right then," he told her a moment later while looking around for Leliana and Wynne. "I think we have some place else to be right now, don't we?"

As the two women rejoined them, Bryallyn nodded. "That we do." Her gaze met Leliana's then and both women's faces seemed to harden just then with grim determination. "We need to see a woman about her message."

As had occurred with Goldanna, Marjolaine clearly had ulterior motives upon the party's arrival. However, as Bryallyn had reassured the bard after their encounter with the mercenaries, the group was behind Leliana completely. And when it seemed as if Leliana might falter, Bryallyn spoke up in her defense. As she did so, Bry observed Marjolaine carefully, taking in some of the more subtle signs that Leliana had been showing he since Redcliffe and their discussion of training. Bryallyn, ever a quick learner though she could not necessarily repeat them, she did recognize them and used them to her advantage in defending her friend. Whether Marjolaine understood that this came from Leliana's instructions or plain luck, Bryallyn would never know, but it didn't really matter in the long run she supposed. Marjolaine ultimately left them with no choice the moment she signaled her people to attack first.

While not unprepared for this eventuality, the woman's timing did catch Bryallyn off guard at first. However, thanks to Wynne and some fancy fingering (Bryallyn wished normal people could learn that cone of cold thing. It came in so handy sometimes!), the damage was kept to a minimum. By the time the confrontation was over, Bryallyn's party was still standing, thankfully, and Marjolaine's was not … though it had been a near thing as she soon found out.

"Bry!"

Alistair's cry of alarm, from over near Marjolaine's bedroom where he and Leliana had gone to verify that all opponents had been taken care of, somewhat startled Bryallyn, but by then she was leaning rather heavily upon Constant who was whining his concern for his mistress. Bry vaguely heard Alistair's bellow for Wynne on the other side of the small house, though she was too distracted by the hazy darkness beginning to swirl around her. She held onto Constant, who was about the only one or thing keeping her upright at the moment, and allowed the hound to lead her over to a chair. Both Leliana and Alistair reached her first.

"This is my fault."

"No," Bry whispered, her hand reaching out towards Leliana. "Any and all blame lies with Marjolaine and only Marjolaine."

Wynne arrived then and quickly began to examine Bryallyn. After some moments of tense silence, she found the issue at hand. "Young lady," she chided gently as she worked, a light healing spell rolling off slightly gnarled fingers and towards the injury, "you need some better armor. The blade was able to make its way through a gap, here." She indicated the location of the wound, on Bryallyn's right side where the armor would usually buckle close together. However, due to the fact that her pregnancy was beginning to show, the armor was not securing as tightly together as it should.

As for herself, Bryallyn simply nodded, fighting off the darkness that was still seeking her out. "On the … agenda," she managed in a raspy tone.

Alistair frowned. "Your armor doesn't fit you?" he queried in confusion. "I know Wardens have increased appetites, but -"

Bryallyn heard Wynne chuckling beside her and found the sound to be highly infectious. As she, and soon thereafter Leliana, joined in, Wynne deadpanned, "Alistair, you do know where babies come from, don't you?"

While Alistair sputtered and struggled for a moment, finally emitting a somewhat strangled, "Pardon?" Leliana reached for Bryallyn's hand and squeezed tightly. It was clear the two younger women were fighting to not openly giggle at Alistair's predicament.

Wynne, however, continued. Though her focus was on Bryallyn, her words were meant for Alistair. "I know the Chantry says you dream about your babies and the good Fade spirits take them out of the Fade and leave them in your arms...but that's not true. Actually what happens is that when a girl and a boy really love each other -"

A coughing rasping chortle escaped Leliana then, and the bard had to turn away to keep Alistair from seeing. Not that he wouldn't know anyway, but one did try to maintain certain courtesies after all. "Andraste's flaming sword!" the senior Warden protested, a glare aimed first at Wynne and then at Leliana's back. "I know where babies come from!"

"Do you?" Wynne challenged, the glow from her hands beginning to die down then. "Do you really?"

"I should certainly hope so!"

Bryallyn nearly lost it then and had to pull her hand from Leliana's to cover her mouth. When Alistair gave her a hard look, she found herself coughing to cover it. Even Constant was making noises that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

"Oh, all right then," Wynne murmured as she stepped back from Bryallyn and placed a hand upon the younger woman's shoulder. Glancing up at Alistair, she smiled and observed, "Aww, look, you're all red and mottled. How cute."

No longer able to control their reactions, Leliana and Bryallyn both began roaring in laughter. Maker help them, they could not help themselves! Alistair, on the other hand, was nearly glowering. "You did that on purpose!" he accused her.

Wynne, for all her skills as a mage, pulled off a frighteningly convincing look of innocence just then. "Now, now, Alistair. Why would I do such a thing?" she asked.

"Because you're wicked," he told her. "That frail old lady act? I'm so not fooled. I'm on to you now."

Gasping for air, Bryallyn groaned as a sharp pain shot through the area that Wynne had just healed. "Please!" she begged as she gasped for air. "Please stop … making … me laugh!" This reaction set Leliana off once more and Bryallyn groaned again as she followed suit. Ultimately, she had to lean forward and bury her face in Constant's neck.

Giving an exaggerated sigh meant to tell the three women just what he thought of their antics, Alistair muttered, "Perhaps we should move on then? Hmm? I seem to recall our fearless leader saying we had a busy day ahead of us."

Within a short time the laughter died down and the group gathered together the items they had liberated from Marjolaine and her men (they would have no further use of it) before they exited the house. Walking beside Alistair for a moment, Constant on her other side just in case, Bryallyn murmured, "You do realize, don't you, Alistair? Wynne did that to help Leliana."

Alistair nodded, his mood still somewhat sober. "I know she did," he returned quietly. "I figured that out when she made the crack about my face being red." He glanced behind him briefly at the mage and then the bard, concern deepening. "I think Leliana and I have some similar lessons to learn."

Bryallyn nodded. "Perhaps," she agreed, though she was certain that Leliana was not nearly as naive about people as Alistair was. "Might do to talk to her at some point, perhaps when you're still working on those 'I'm not blushing' lessons, hmm?"

The concern gave way to amused chuckles then. "Perhaps," he agreed. Straightening, he continued, "Now then. Shall we go and see if we can find this Brother Genitivi you mentioned last night? I'd like to think we could accomplish _some_thing today while we're here."

Bryallyn smiled and nodded. "I agree." And with that, she began leading the way across the market towards the good brother's home.


	58. Truth Be Told

_Alright, here we have it. Fergus … Nathaniel … and an exercise in keeping points of view separated. I've had a lot of practice with this over the past couple of years, and while I think I've gotten quite the hang of it, I was a bit surprised when my muses decided they wanted to keep each section a separate point of view. So, that said, there's some jumping back and forth. Let me know what you think - like, dislike, etc. Obviously, there are times that will lend itself better to this sort of format than others, but I really like how it worked here._

_That said, thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those who set favs and alerts. This time, I've apparently sped things up so much, I don't have anyone to mention yet, so I will mention everyone next chapter! :)_

_Thanks to my wonderfully patient and fabulously talented betas: **MireliAmbar, Erynnar** and **Liso66** without whom I'd be totally lost! Thanks, ladies!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …... (and obviously, most of this chapter is made up!)_

_**A/N:** Musical Inspiration: this time around ….. "Closer to the Edge," by Thirty Seconds to Mars, "Tough Boy," by Tom Cat for the anime Hokuto No Ken (Fist of the North Star), "The Moment of Truth," by Survivor, and (just cause I can!) "Rumble in Brighton" by the Stray Cats._

* * *

"_Tell me what happened."_

Nathaniel remained silent for a time as he carefully pondered how to proceed next. Fergus deserved an explanation, he had no doubts there at all. For him, the question was how to go about it? The man was clearly not at his best health-wise. Would giving him a recounting of events just make things worse? Or even cause new problems? Especially once he found out about his family? After all, Nathaniel 'knew' certain things, was 'fairly certain' about others, but the rest, well, he was just guessing as best as he could. No matter what he told Fergus, Nathaniel knew the man was going to take a hit, and a hard one at that. _Perhaps I should bring Trinion or one of the other Highever men back here …._

Nathaniel took a seat on the edge of the sleeping platform then, his head lowering as he stared at his hands in his lap. Unconsciously, he began cracking his knuckles, and the sound echoed throughout the small area. _Not the best of things to be hearing just now,_ he supposed. Taking a deep breath, Nathaniel began with the tale of what had occurred aboard _La Gaviota_. When he arrived at the part with Devlyn's warning, Nathaniel did pause again, eyeing Fergus carefully. This was where it became tricky. "He told me that the castle was to be attacked, that your father and his entire family was to be destroyed …."

Up until this point, Nathaniel had kept his descriptions vague, general. It wasn't that he was trying to protect his father by any means, just that he wanted Fergus to know what all had occurred before he was distracted by the magnitude of the crime and who was responsible. But, he should have known that Fergus wouldn't let him get that far.

"Who?"

Nathaniel, to his credit, did not cringe nor hesitate in responding. He understood all too easily that there was no way this would end well. So, instead, he simply answered, "My father."

* * *

Fergus had sat up more as Nathaniel began telling him of the attempt that Devlyn had made on his life aboard the ship. Being alone, basically, out at sea and having your best friend betray you in such a way … he just couldn't imagine it. Oh sure, Trinion and the others had been there, watching his back for him, but to have one of your best friends betray you like that? That was something more. And then the warnings. Highever. His parents. His wife and son. His sister ….

It was at this point that Fergus began feeling a deep sense of dread and foreboding building in the pit of his stomach. He could see, by Nathaniel's reactions - or perhaps non-reactions would be a better way to describe it - that whatever had occurred had affected him deeply and profoundly. Fergus had no reason to think that it would not be the same for him … though when his sister's husband announced that it was his own father behind all of it ….

Fergus had heard of the expression 'seeing red' before when applied to those who, when angered, would just … go off. Though he had not met one in person yet, he supposed that the description was apt for those warriors who followed the berserker style of warfare. However, in that moment, in that time and place, as the meaning of the two words spoken by Nathaniel slowly began to penetrate the fog surrounding his brain at that moment, Fergus found that he could only 'see red.' And in that moment, he began to see a series of images flashing before him just ….

_He was a child, running around and playing at castle Cousland, not a care in the world …._

_The day his baby sister was born and the looks upon his parents' faces when he'd announced that he'd prefer to have a mabari …._

_His first day of training with his father and the men that he knew he would someday have to lead into battle …._

_The Satinalia festival in town when he was twelve and his sister had used her rudimentary ranger skills to help save him …._

_The first time he laid eyes upon Oriana and somewhat later, the nervous energy he had exuded as he asked her to become his wife …._

_The day his son was born and the joy he had felt … and holding and consoling Oriana when their subsequent attempts for more children had failed …._

_His sister pleading with him to run interference with Thomas Howe because it was Nathaniel she wanted …._

_Standing beside Nathaniel the day he married Bryallyn and finally being able to call the man brother …._

When the images subsided and his vision cleared, Fergus came to several realizations all about the same time. First, he found his cheeks damp with tears that were falling freely and that he could not seem to stop. He could accept that. His father had once told him that holding back when grieving was not the best way to deal with one's emotions. Second, he could hear an almost animal-like growl of pain and anguish and only belatedly realized it was coming from his chest. Though startled by this, he also found that he could not stop it either. Third, Fergus had somehow managed to propel himself across the bed where he had been laying and onto the floor, his hands alternately beating somewhat weakly against Nathaniel's chest and shoulders when not attempting to cut the air off to the man's lungs by pressing both hands around his neck. This, perhaps more than anything, surprised him most as both he and K'danya had wondered just how much mobility he might get back in his leg after the injury and infection, and when he did, just how much. And then finally, that Nathaniel was not fighting back at all against him. His brother by marriage just lay there, not trying to protect himself in any way, not making a sound, nor offering any excuses. It was this last that finally broke through the haze to the man beneath.

Pulling himself up short and forcing a distance between them, Fergus could hear the raspy gasping noises as they both struggled to breathe just then. After a few tense moments, Fergus dared to look over at Nathaniel, his eyes latching onto Nathaniel's steely grey gaze.

"Why?"

* * *

When Fergus pulled back, Nathaniel remained where he was, as he was, though he did roll over onto his side finding that the position made it a bit easier for him to find air. Though he didn't believe there was any lasting or serious damage, he had felt at least two ribs crack, and his neck hurt like the very demons that must have possessed Rendon Howe at the time for him to do such a thing to the Couslands in the first place.

"Why?"

Nathaniel heard a number of emotions in that one, plaintive wail. It was a simple word, but one that required a very complex reply. It was also one that Nathaniel did not have the answers for just yet.

"I wish I knew." _Definitely bruised vocal cords,_ he thought as he heard his own hoarse response.

Silence reigned again, and this time Nathaniel moved to sit up. He knew Fergus deserved a better answer, but he had none to give at this time. He knew some things for certain, was fairly sure of others. But he refused to speculate on the things upon which he had no solid evidence to back up his conclusions.

Fergus, however, was beyond seeing reason just then, and Nathaniel could not blame the man. "My sister," he protested, his anger so vehement that his voice was shaking with it, "_your wife_ - was murdered by your father!"

Nathaniel sat there looking over at Fergus. The man's body language screamed utter defeat. He hoped that the news he was about to impart would help with that … somehow, at any rate. It would not be the same as giving him back his entire family, but …. "Bry is still alive, Fergus."

Silence. Raspy breaths still echoed about the room, but at least the accusations were no longer being flung. "You've … seen her then?" Fergus finally demanded, his voice now regaining its strength. "You've spoken to her? Where is she? Is she here? With the rest of your men?"

_And now comes the difficult part in which I explain to my brother that I am just a little bit … crazy._ Sighing heavily, Nathaniel shook his head. "I've not actually _seen_ her, so to speak," he ventured. The look Fergus gave him then reminded him of Bryallyn. That cocking of the eyebrow in doubt and question at the same time. As strange as it sounded even to his own mind, Nathaniel somehow, all because of that one look, knew that things would resolve themselves and work out.

Another sigh, and Nathaniel absently reached for the ring on his finger, idly twisting the band as he struggled to explain. "I … As strange as this will sound to you, brother, I ask that you listen." Fergus nodded, but said nothing, and Nathaniel took the time to explain about the instances he had been experiencing, meeting Bryallyn in the Fade. Beginning with that first instance, right after the attack by Devlyn on board the ship and up until his most recent one, near Lothering. It took some time, and he stumbled a time or two as he sought ways to explain all that seemed unexplainable.

"All I know is what I have just told you," he finally concluded. "The last time I _saw_ her, we both concluded that it must be our rings that were binding us together, allowing us to find each other in the Fade."

* * *

To say that Nathaniel's story was verging on the incredible was an understatement, Fergus supposed. Though he listened as Nathaniel explained about the rings, their being a Tevinter product, supposedly keeping the couple connected in heart, mind and soul, Fergus still had his doubts. Oh, he believed that they were Tevinter made, there was no reason to doubt that. He'd known others who had obtained similar items in the past. But to actually have something like that connect one person to another? That smacked of magic, and considering that Tevinter was famous (or infamous, depending on your point of view) for their blood mages, it was a route he found himself preferring not to travel.

"So … Bry is safe?" he queried then, certain his confusion must still be evident.

Nathaniel shrugged. "From what I can tell, she is as safe as we are," he returned.

Fergus' eyes narrowed and bore down on Nathaniel. "Why do I not find that very reassuring?"

Nathaniel actually snorted in amusement then and Fergus found himself curious. "Fergus, this is your sister we are talking about. The ranger. The stubborn woman who -"

Fergus shut his eyes then, a soft chuckle of wry amusement filtering through his lips. Lifting a hand, he waved off Nathaniel's protests. "I'm well aware of my sister's stubborn nature," he returned, a slight curve to his lips though he'd be loathe to call it a smile. "She gets that from our mother." A twinge then, at the thought he would never be able to tease his mother about that ever again. Or his father. Or ….

* * *

Nathaniel watched Fergus closely. It was all fine and good to have the man even attempting to joke about Bry, but he knew that sooner or later the pain and anger would return. It would come and go for a long while, he suspected. _And the blame is all at your feet, father. I hope you are ready for the retribution that will surely find you._ Sighing, Nathaniel attempted to rise to his feet then. After several moments, he was successful, at which point he crossed to Fergus and laid a hand upon his shoulder. "We'd best get you back in bed," he suggested. "I would not want to face your healer if she should find you out of it."

Fergus accepted the hand that Nathaniel offered then, his eyes opening and meeting them. Both men shared a look, and then reality began to settle upon them. Rendon Howe had to pay for his crimes. Nathaniel had already accepted this. In truth, looking back over the weeks since the attacks and the influx of knowledge that followed, he supposed he had been working towards a state of quiet determination regarding what had to come next. But knowing that Fergus was alive would help. Perhaps he could guide Fergus' focus into that as well, give the man a goal to help keep him going. Keep them _both_ moving forward.

* * *

"Probably for the best," Fergus muttered as he leaned heavily against Nathaniel while returning to the sleeping platform. "I intend to leave with you."

He waited for an argument, a protest, some sort of reaction from Nathaniel that would inevitably belong to the, _Oh no you won't, you're too injured to keep up with us_, category. He was ready to protest, and truly wished the man would do so. But as Fergus slipped beneath the bedclothes once more, he realized Nathaniel wasn't going to accommodate him. Instead, he offered, "We were looking for surviving men of Highever. Of course you will be welcome."

The curtain at the door was opened then and Fergus glanced over to see K'danya approaching. Glancing up at Nathaniel, he murmured, "We need to convince _her_ to let me leave." He saw Nathaniel smirk at that and wondered just what that meant.

"Considering they had men out looking for us and brought us to you, I've no doubt they will let you leave," he finally returned. "In the meantime, I need to go see to the others, find out where we should set up camp for the night." Fergus met Nathaniel's gaze as the younger man looked over at him. "We will not leave without you, that I will swear."

Fergus nodded and lay back as K'danya began to fuss over him and Nathaniel departed. He had much to think on at the moment. Now would be a good time to start.


	59. In Denerim Town

_Alright … bit of explanation about below. A while back I wrote a story about how Bryce and Eleanor Cousland met called "We Do What Must Be Done." In it, I had references to how I thought some of Leliana's history might have been. That will come into play here, in this chapter, and then again down the road a ways. (Keep in mind this was before "Leliana's Song" came out, but I think it still works with that too) Please feel free to go and read that story (it's not a requirement to understand what will happen here - I will try to give enough explanation in this story so that it won't be necessary), and for those who have already read it, I am working on a more thorough version, additional chapters, certain pieces broadened just a bit, a few tweaks to work out, that sort of thing. However, that won't happen until after this story is complete! All I can say is that the Cousland story has fascinated me since I began playing Dragon Age and I was compelled by that to write that piece up._

_Anyway, moving along … Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked as well as set alerts and favs including Erynnar (you didn't HAVE to catch up with every chapter, sweetie, but I thank you!), naomis8329, BabyInf3rno, ProsePrincess and Liso66._

_My betas, as always, making me look presentable: **MireliAmbar, Liso66** and **Erynnar.**_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N:** Musical Inspiration: "Destination Unknown," from the soundtrack to Top Gun, "The Heart's Cry" from the Riverdance soundtrack, "A Lonely Voice" by October Project, "Subdivisions" by Rush, and "Twist of Fate" by Olivia Newton-John._

* * *

Alistair's words regarding the good brother proved to be … wholly unnecessary. After arriving at Genitivi's house and gaining entrance, the best they were able to do was talk to the man's assistant, Weylon, who, as it turned out, was of almost no help either. He was quick to inform them that Brother Genitivi was missing, that he'd heard nothing from him for quite a while in fact. And while this did not surprise Bryallyn much - the man was probably researching his next book, after all - there had been something unusual in Weylon's behavior, though Bry found that she could not quite put her finger on it.

It was while speaking with him that Bryallyn noted a curious reaction which she filed away to speak with the others about later. As she attempted to encourage and convince Weylon to answer some more questions regarding Brother Genitivi's last known whereabouts, Constant began sniffing around the room, apparently bored with the conversation. This in itself was not strange, keeping a mabari on task at times was harder than many people thought. It was Weylon's reaction to the hound that she found had her curious. The man became rather agitated, more and more distracted from their conversation, until finally, in order to get him to answer a few relatively simple questions, Bryallyn ordered Constant back to her side. Reluctantly, the mabari did as told and Weylon seemed to calm almost immediately. The only thing Bryallyn could figure was that he was concerned with Constant damaging some of Genitivi's artifacts or papers that were set out about the room. At any rate, it was shortly after this that the man finally gave up Genitivi's last known whereabouts. "Lake Calenhad."

Thanking the man for his help and hinting that if she and her friends traveled in that direction they would keep an eye out for the good brother and let him know of Weylon's concerns, Bryallyn began guiding the others out of the home. Once outside, her group gathered around her, Bryallyn heard Leliana murmur, "Well, I must say that the man has little or no manners!"

Bryallyn, Alistair and Wynne all chuckled. "I suspect that was the furthest thing from his mind just then," Wynne counseled.

"I thought it seemed a bit … off in there," Alistair added with a bit of a frown. When Bryallyn turned to look at him, he added, "I can't quite explain it though."

"I was thinking the same thing," she told him with a smile. "I thought perhaps he was worried about Constant," the hound yipped at the mention of his name, "damaging some of the brother's artifacts or papers." She offered the others a somewhat sheepish grin then. "I forget sometimes that not everyone is familiar with mabari behavior."

The Chantry bell rang then, tolling out the mid-morning bells across the marketplace. "So then," Alistair queried, "what are we to do now?"

Bryallyn took a moment to look around them, taking in everything and everyone in the area to see if she might find some inspiration. As her eyes lit upon one of the guards, a sergeant if she understood the uniforms and rankings well enough, he caught her attention and gestured her over. Straightening, she announced with a slight nod before her, "Let's go see if the good sergeant has anything he might need done. If we can make some coins, we'll be all the better off, no?"

The idea turned out to bear quite a bit of fruit in the end. The sergeant, after a brief explanation of why he could use the assistance, sent them off to rid a brothel called _The Pearl_ of some mercenaries. Though not exactly what she might have had in mind at the beginning of the day, Bryallyn assured the man that they would take care of the matter. Within the hour, they were meeting up with the Sergeant once more, and he seemed pleased enough with the job they had done. Before they could speak much, however, the disgruntled mercenaries decided to seek their revenge. After successfully defending themselves and the Sergeant's men, Bryallyn heard the Sergeant saying, "And people actually voluntarily attack you?"

Bryallyn laughed at his reaction. "Believe it or not, yes," she replied with a grin.

The look of incredulity on his face kept her smile in place. "Are they just stupid?"

"It would seem so, yes," Alistair offered off-handedly, turning to join the conversation.

They chatted a bit longer then, and the Sergeant explained that he had one more 'disturbance' that he could use assistance with if they were interested. Bryallyn glanced up at Alistair and they took a moment for some silent communication before she agreed to take the job. This one, the Sergeant explained, was another group of mercenaries, though they were causing issues at The Gnawed Noble Tavern on the edge of the Market District. The place was owned and operated by Edwina, though after the trouble the mercenaries, a group called the Crimson Oars, had been causing, she didn't appear to care if they were roughed up a bit during the removal process or not. When Bry offered an arched eyebrow at this, the Sergeant chuckled. "Edwina's a unique one, I'll grant you."

Agreeing to take on the job, Bryallyn led the others back to the marketplace and to the tavern. As they entered, she whispered, "Let's try to keep the fuss to a minimum. This looks like a good place for us to return for our mid-day meal." That in mind, Edwina directed them to the side room. What they found was not, in the grand scheme of things, impressive, or so Bryallyn thought. It took some effort, some strategically worded suggestions, but after a while, the mercenaries finally decided to leave. Bryallyn had Alistair and Leliana follow the mercenaries just to be sure they caused no further problems as she and Wynne stopped to speak with Edwina on the way out. Aside from a small jibe for being so diplomatic (the woman apparently had wanted a bit of violence. Who'd have known?), Edwina told her to tell the Sergeant that the job was satisfactorily completed.

A short time later, after passing along the message, and subsequently being paid for both jobs, the Sergeant also let it be known that he had no quarrel with the Wardens. As far as he was concerned, they were not responsible for the death of the king or the loss at Ostagar. Bry and Alistair shared a look at that comment, and both seemed to be a bit relieved at the man's words.

After making their goodbyes, the group left the Sergeant and his men and returned to the marketplace and began a discussion of what to do next. They hadn't gotten far before the Chantry bells began ringing half-one and almost as if on cue, Bryallyn's stomach began to rumble. Leliana began giggling, Wynne attempted to hide her amusement behind the back of her hand but was unsuccessful as her eyes brightened with laughter, and Alistair gave her a look. Returning the gaze with one of her own, he clarified in a somewhat quiet voice so as not to broadcast to those standing around them, "Just curious if that is junior saying he's hungry, or if your Warden appetite is kicking in."

Bryallyn offered a soft snort of amusement in return and was about to tease him back in some fashion when Alistair's own stomach echoed the sentiments of her own. Laughing outright, she grinned up at him. "I guess you have your answer there," she teased.

Looking a bit abashed, Alistair returned the grin nonetheless and nodded. "I guess I do at that."

Glancing over at Leliana and Wynne, Bryallyn asked, "Shall we return to the Noble then?"

This finally decided, they did just that. Upon entering, they headed to a table in the far back to give them some privacy. Settling at one of the tables there, Bryallyn was surprised to look up to find the barkeep himself standing beside them rather expectantly. As their eyes met, she saw that expectant look transform into a broad smile. "How may I serve, my lady?" he inquired.

Bryallyn was about to correct him on the proper way to be addressed when she hesitated. There was something about him that she found to be familiar. "Have we met?" she asked instead.

The man nodded, his head bobbing up and down a few times before he turned to include the others in his welcome. "Indeed we have, my lady, though you were just a wee lass at the time. Your parents were in town for a Landsmeet and they and your brother and you came in for a meal. I doubt you'll remember, but I do. Name's Cyril." He reached into his pocket then, fumbled for a moment and when he pulled his hand back out, Bryallyn could see that he held a coin of some kind between his fingers. Handing it over to her, Bryallyn took it carefully in her hands and started to examine it. Recognition hit instantly. Years before, her father had commissioned the smith in Highever to make a unique sort of coin. No more than one hundred had been minted, but on one side was the heraldry of Highever, the two green spears crossed over a large pale green raindrop. On the other side, the Cousland heraldic device consisting of a wreath of laurels.

"What's that you have there, Bry," Alistair asked as he glanced over her shoulder to look.

"My … My father had these coins minted for a purpose," she whispered, her eyes lifting to meet Cyril's again. "You are correct, ser, I do not recall the incident when I was younger." She handed him the coin back then. "Though it is clear to me that you knew my parents well." Bryce Cousland only distributed those coins to people he had long trusted or whom he owed a favor. The coin was meant to prove that, should they take it to a member of the Cousland family, the debt would be repaid.

"That I did, my lady. I had the fortune of meeting them during the final stages of the siege of this city. Your mother once attempted to do me a great service, though alas, the timing of it was unfortunate and she was unsuccessful. During one of their later visits, your father gave me this, told me I had but to ask for any favor and it would be granted." The man smiled at her then as he pocketed the coin. "I do not wish any favor at this time, but rather would offer you the same in return." He turned to glance around the room quickly before adding, "I know you and your friend here are being watched for."

Bryallyn blinked as she tried to process the information he had just imparted. She had found out several very valuable pieces. Smiling up at him a moment later, she told him, "Thank you, Cyril. We may just need to take you up on that. In the meantime … may we get something to drink?" Her stomach rumbled again and everyone laughed. "And some food, please."

Chuckling, Cyril waved one of the girls over before sending her off to the kitchens to bring back food. He himself stepped away for a moment and soon returned with a tray containing mugs of ale. He set them out on the table before turning to head back to the bar, content that they would be well set for the time being.

"So tell me, Bry," Leliana commented as she tasted the brew and found herself smiling, "who is this man, hmm? He seems to know you well."

Bryallyn smiled. "I had nearly forgotten," she mused, her eyes staring off into the distance for a long moment as she recalled the story her parents had told her and Fergus often. "It was during the battle for Denerim, when King Maric was attempting to take back Ferelden from the Orlesians." She glanced over at Alistair and found him listening intently too. Turning towards Wynne, she asked, "Would you have been there, Wynne? You are of the right generation, are you not?"

Wynne chuckled and took a good swig of her drink. "My dear, I was but recently harrowed and still at the Tower at that time," she explained. "But we did hear of the battles that King Maric fought it. Heard too of his last confrontation upon the top of Fort Drakon with King Meghren."

Bryalyn nodded. She was not drinking much of the ale, the flavor of which was not agreeing with her at the moment and she knew to be more of an issue because of her pregnancy than anything else. Setting her drink aside then, she continued, "Well, my mother, who was very pregnant at the time with my brother, had come along with my father to assist in the battle. However, being so far along with child, my father would not let her into combat, and so she decided one day to do something useful like make arrangements for ale to be sent to the Highever troops. That was how she met Cyril. He was one of the apprentice brewers at Aylesleigh Brewery."

The serving girl arrived then with four bowls of stew, some chunks of bread, and a large meatbone for Constant to gnaw upon. Thanking the girl for her forethought, Bryallyn tucked into her bowl quite quickly and took several moments to enjoy the flavors that floated across her tastebuds.

"So what happened after your mother met Cyril?" Leliana asked between mouthfuls. She, too, was enjoying the food, most especially since she was not the one to have made it.

"They talked for a while, made the arrangements and all for delivery, but Mother also found out that Cyril was stuck upon the other side of the river." Bryallyn took a bit of bread and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "He was engaged, you see, to a maid who lived in the palace district with her lady. They had become separated when he arrived at work some days before and the battle lines had shifted. At that point, he was not allowed to cross back over."

"Sadly, once battle lines get drawn, it is the innocents who end up suffering," Wynne murmured. Bryallyn glanced over at the woman, a bit startled. The feeling behind the mage's comment had been almost … vitriolic. Concerned, Bryallyn made a mental note to talk with the woman later to see if there was something troubling her.

The next few moments were a bit stilted and awkward, but Bryallyn soon found her tongue once more and continued her story. "My mother did find the woman, eventually," she explained quietly. A sad smile tilted her lips. "Though, in the end, Amélie did not stay. She was assisting her lady, you see." Bryallyn was tilting her head to look at Alistair when something about the story suddenly hit her. _Amélie, maid to Lady …._

"Your mother?"

* * *

Alistair looked over in concern as Leliana and Bryallyn both gasped the words at each other at the same exact moment. A quick look at Wynne assured him that the mage was in as much a state of confusion as he was. Apparently, the confusion must have shown because Bryallyn continued on almost immediately. "Amélie was your mother!" She sat back in her seat, shock clearly overwhelming her for a moment, though Alistair had to admit to himself he was uncertain as to the reason.

Leliana nodded, though, a dumbfounded look crossing her features. "That … that would mean …."

Both women turned towards the bar then, and Alistair's gaze followed as they all watched the man behind the counter while he served another customer. "I think …," Bryallyn murmured, her head turning to look over at the bard, "I think you need to go and introduce yourself."

Alistair frowned as he observed Leliana. She looked as if she'd rather be anywhere but there at that moment, or so he thought anyway. He felt a sharp tug in his chest then too, and a sudden urge to protect her from … something, though he knew not what. Almost absently, he lifted a hand to rub at the spot. He was missing something.

"I … I can't," Leliana protested then, her features so pale that Alistair wondered if she was about to faint.

But Bryallyn moved quickly to reassure their friend. "You can," she murmured, rising to her feet. "I'll go with you."

And before he could protest or ask for any explanation to what was happening, the two younger women had started walking over towards the bar. His eyes narrowed in concern and confusion, Alistair looked over at Wynne. "I just missed something important," he muttered, eyeing the mage closely for her reaction. "Didn't I?"

Wynne chuckled then, gently to be sure, but she was laughing nonetheless even when she hid her smile with the mug of ale as she took a drink. A moment later, she reached out and patted the top of his arm. "Let me see if I can explain this so you might understand, Alistair …."


	60. The Road to Haven

_Took some liberties with the interpretation of events here. It always seemed illogical to me that the Warden would have to go from Denerim - Lake Calenhad - Denerim and THEN to Haven … so I have had Bryallyn find out about Haven in a slightly more logical manner._

_Also please note - I realize that you can speak to Bodahn numerous times for rumors (trust me, I did just that and came up with 23 separate ones and I know of one or two I've still yet to hear, so there's more out there!). However, due to not wanting to take an entire chapter to elaborate on some of them below, I grouped like ones together for the purposes of being related. _

_Thanks to those who read, reviewed and lurked, as well as those setting favs and alerts including ProsePrincess, Erynnar, naomis8329, Willowsle, minshe, Lady of Azkaban and Liso66._

_Thanks to my wonderful betas this time **Erynnar **and **Liso66**._

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N:** Musical Inspiration: "Go Your Own Way," by Fleetwood Mac, "Great Southern Land" by Icehouse (my standard, wandering around Ferelden song), and "Heart of Madness" by Kodomo Band from "Fist of the North Star."_

* * *

The time in Denerim had been somewhat productive in the long run. Though personally, things for Alistair had not gone well, and Leliana had ended up more or less on a high note after a rough start, the group _had_ succeeded in making enough money to purchase the supplies and equipment that they needed. Bryallyn could feel a bit more confident when going into battle that her companions would now have a much better chance coming out unscathed than they had before this venture. Even Morrigan and Zevran had managed to pull a few, if not magical then miraculous maneuvers, and wound up not only with the items they were sent to purchase, but returning with said items plus more in funds than when they'd begun the day. When confronted regarding this, Zevran swore to Bryallyn that he had not resorted to any illegal means, and when Morrigan was brought into the matter, the apostate remained sufficiently vague as to the source of the monies, but the woman backed up the elf's story. In the end, Bryallyn had been too exhausted from the day's efforts to pursue the matter any further and had let it lie … though she did not miss the shared look and sly grins that both witch and elf exchanged as they turned away.

Leaving the capital, the group began heading west. Bryallyn felt the next logical best step for them would be to search for Brother Genitivi at Lake Calenhad as Weylon had offered. Though she could sense some less than enthusiastic reactions to this plan, particularly from Sten and Morrigan, no one offered up a better suggestion and so the decision was made. They would head west.

They were working on two weeks out of Denerim (and only a few outside of a rather intriguing visit to an inn beside Lake Calenhad by name of _The Spoiled Princess_) and establishing camp for the evening when Bryallyn and Leliana, both on cooking detail that night, glanced up from their preparations at the sounds of wooden creaks and groans of an approaching wagon. No sooner had both women drawn their bows and aimed than they realized just who their visitors were. Bryallyn rose to her feet first, brushing her hands off before following the cart further into the sheltered camp. "Bodahn," she called out in pleasant surprise as she approached, "you and Sandal are a sight for sore eyes!" Truth was, Bryallyn and her companions had agreed to allow the dwarven merchant to come and go as he saw fit because he often returned with better items for trade whether they be armor, weapons, enchantments or just plain rumors.

The dwarf chuckled, stepping away from the cart as Sandal moved to prepare their camp for the evening. "And I, you, my friend," he told her. When he gestured a bit of distance away from the wagon, Bryallyn nodded her understanding and walked a ways with him. "Something on your mind, Bodahn?" she queried after a moment.

"Well, you see, m'lady," the dwarf began in his usual manner, "the boy and I have been traveling a bit. Around the country like."

Bryallyn swallowed back a grin and chuckle of amusement. She'd lost count the number of times she had explained to the dwarf she was not to be referred to as 'my lady,' but Bodahn being Bodahn simply chose to speak as he would. Bryallyn had finally given up trying to change this, particularly since the items he often had more than made up for it. "Had some interesting travels, have you?" she teased lightly.

Bodahn chuckled. "Nothing too adventurous, m'lady," he promised. "Have been keeping the ears open, as it were, and came across some tidbits you might find valuable."

Bryallyn nodded and waited as patiently as possible. She had discovered from the beginning that Bodahn would tell his tale in his own time and manner. There was no sense in trying to rush him.

Clearing his throat, he began. Bryallyn listened in stunned fascination at the breadth and depth of the rumors that the dwarf had collected this time. The last update had been mostly about Ostagar - Loghain and his varying reasons as to why he would have retreated. Unwilling to upset Alistair with the news, Bryallyn had kept that information to herself. But this time, she realized, she might have to bring not only her fellow Warden in, but the rest of the group as well. The news was unsettling, to say the least. Again, many of the rumors were focused on King Cailan - his infidelities, reasons that Loghain might have wanted him to die, even a hint that Queen Anora had been childless so far because she was from common stock and not royalty. Bryallyn pushed those aside. And they were not of import just then and could be dealt with (if at all) later. "And then there's the plight of those Dalish elves in the Brecilian Forest," he continued, his voice deepening slightly in concern. "It seems some hunters who have gone in there have found one of the clans there to be overcome by some strange sickness. What it is, they didn't know. And that wasn't all! On their way out of the forest, rumor has it they were attacked by werewolves! Can you imagine?"

Bryallyn felt her brow furrowing at the dwarf's words, her thoughts beginning to narrow. The elves were one of the groups specified by the Grey Warden treaties. If they were having troubles now, perhaps she should be leading the group in that direction instead of ….

"There's also word that the old dwarven king, Endrin Aeducan, has passed on. That one's probably true. He was old back when I was leaving," Bodhan added musingly. "On the other hand, could be that one of the noble families, or even one of his three children there got tired of him, had him poisoned or assassinated. That's usually how they go about it."

Another group whose support they needed for the treaties. _Maker's breath!_ she thought. _We're going to be having to help all these people with their problems before they'll agree to help us, likely as not._ "Any other rumors I need to know about, Bodahn?" she asked. Bryallyn glanced around camp in search of Alistair, but he had not returned yet from getting water with Zevran. She and her fellow Warden needed to have a long discussion, it seemed, regarding their next move.

"Well, m'lady, seems that Loghain is calling for levies on troops to help rebuild the armies from Ostagar. He's even got press gangs grabbing the free men, leastways, that's what I hear out of Dragon's Peak."

Bryallyn's frown turned to a scowl then. "Figures," she muttered. "And no doubt he's thinking to use them for reasons other than fighting the Blight." Sighing, she began pinching the bridge of her nose with her forefinger and thumb, fighting off the inevitable headache that would be forthcoming. "Sorry, Bodahn. Please continue."

The dwarf simply offered her a smile in response to her apology. "Certainly. I've also heard tell that there have been knights from Redcliffe wandering around the country searching for something." Bryallyn's attention was caught by this and she glanced back at the dwarf, a brow lifting in question. Nodding, he continued, "Though, it's becoming rare to find them now. Perhaps they've all gone back to Redcliffe." The frown returned. _There were only a few at Redcliffe when we left,_ Bry mused silently. The sound of approaching voices caught her attention then, and she glanced across camp to find Alistair and Zevran returning. She was about to signal Alistair to join her when she noted that both men appeared to be ….

A soft giggle from over by the fire drifted her way and Bryallyn turned to find Leliana rising to her feet to go and assist. "I see that you both decided to take a bath while you were busy!" she teased. Bryallyn chuckled too. Still and all, she thought that Alistair and Zevran might finally be getting to the 'tolerant' stage with each other.

Turning back to Bodahn then, Bryallyn heard the dwarf adding, "There's also a rumor floating around out there that the Lady Isolde tried to poison her husband so that she could marry Bann Teagan."

_THAT_ announcement sent Bryallyn into a coughing fit as she breathed in sharply and tried to swallow her amusement. The case was so bad, it had the dwarf patting at her back frantically, murmuring, "There, there," over and over again, while glancing around for Wynne. When he finally spotted her, Bryallyn was aware enough to realize that he had signaled the mage over to assist. Bry gasped for a breath then and struggled to reassure the dwarf, but it only set her off coughing once more. By that point, however, Wynne was beside her and assisting her as she could. "Thank you, Bodahn," Bry finally rasped, feeling a light wave of healing magic flow to the affected area in her throat. "We can talk more later."

Bryallyn allowed Wynne to guide her over near her tent so the mage could finish examining her, but the older woman seemed to be less concerned than before after hearing that Bryallyn was able to speak again without the fit continuing. As they settled down just outside the tent, Bry heard Wynne ask with some cheek, "Was it something he said?"

Bry chuckled softly. She repeated the last bit of information that Bodahn had passed on to her and was not surprised when the mage began laughing as well. The thought that Bann Teagan would agree to such a thing was quite amusing, indeed. "Yes, well, rumors do tend to begin based on some small kernel of truth, you realize." The mage moved on to check the nearly healed wound from their adventure in Denerim, a move that reminded Bryallyn that she must check with Bodahn regarding some better armor. "I understand that," Bry returned. "I guess it's just after speaking with Teagan as much as I did while we were there, I find it to be so … unimaginable?"

"From his perspective, yes. I will agree with that. From Isolde's, however, …." Wynne allowed her voice to trail off then. "Well, you seem to have healed nicely there, if I do say so myself." Bryallyn grinned as she rose to her feet once more. "Thanks, Wynne."

As she crossed the camp to rejoin Leliana by the fire, Bryallyn glanced around. Morrigan appeared to be working on potions or something of the like in her own camp. Zevran and Alistair with Leliana's assistance had managed to get the water over by the fire as evidenced by the stew now beginning to give off some rather delicious smelling aromas. Neither of the men had left, she noted. They were deep in discussion with Leliana about something, though Bry could not tell from her position just what it was. Sten was breaking firewood along one of the outer edges of the camp, Constant sitting nearby and giving his own canine comments periodically. That had Bryallyn pause for a moment and smile. It had surprised her at first just how well the dog and the qunari had gotten on with each other, but after observing them together, it began to make more and more sense. This also had helped Bryallyn in her efforts to understand Sten better, too.

She neared the fire then and, unsurprisingly, Alistair rose to give her his place to sit. He was doing this more and more of late and Bryallyn found herself wondering if it had more to do with the fact that she was a woman or expecting or both. Whatever the case, she was thankful for his kindness. Seating herself, she soon found herself drawn into the discussion her friends had been having.

"We were discussing that little … incident, back at the _Princess_," Alistair informed her as she sat.

Bryallyn nodded and accepted a cup of tea from Leliana as the bard handed it over. "I've been giving it some consideration as well," she returned. Then glancing at each one of them individually, she asked, "Have you come to any conclusions?"

That the strangeness of the incident had stuck with them for so many days since the encounter did not surprise Bryallyn at all. The people who had attacked had been different, that was for certain. From their manner of dress to their fighting style, and even some of the tattoos observed, Bryallyn and the others had found it all somewhat disturbing. Both Wynne and Morrigan had examined the weapons and found odd sorts of magical abilities imparted upon them, odd in the sense that they either were not familiar with them or that they had been used in ways that were not 'normal.'. Additionally, Leliana had pointed out some of the similarities and differences in some of the amulets that each of the slain individuals had worn. Still and all, the attackers not been much different in their appearance and all than some of the bandits who had attacked before. Their battle cries, however ….

Leliana was the first to speak. "I know that look," she murmured, watching Bryallyn closely. "What is it you haven't told us? Hmm?"

For all the seriousness of what they had to discuss, Bryallyn did chuckle at Leliana. The bard was indeed able to read her well. Which reminded Bry that she needed to be working with Leliana more on those bard skills. Who knew when the ability to mask one's feelings might become necessary, right?

"I'm more curious about this … what did he call it, Haven?" Alistair queried. "That place the innkeeper said he'd overheard them talking about."

"Ah yes, my friend, he did call it Haven, I believe," Zevran interjected before turning his gaze to observe Bry closely. He, too, had this habit of reading her well. "Have you heard of such a place?" he asked her. "I will admit that I have not, but then my knowledge of Fereldan geography is somewhat limited."

Bryallyn nodded, murmuring, "I have heard of it, actually," a move that had all three of them looking at her in some surprise. Blushing slightly at the reactions of her friends, she told them, "I know vaguely where it is located. It isn't much to go on, but it's more than what we had before."

Bryallyn proceeded then to share the information she had been given by her parents over the years. She began with the story of how her parents had met, of their flight across the country after the Battle of White River and into the Frostback Mountains. "They came upon Haven completely by accident," she explained, "and they found it to be a rather odd place. To start with, the guard at the town did not want to allow them in."

"But … why?" Leliana asked, her brow furrowing at the thought.

Bry shrugged. "I have no idea. Neither did my parents. Another guard finally came along though and let them in. But what really caught my attention from their stories," Bryallyn pulled out one of the amulets that Leliana had given her after the ambush beside Lake Calenhad, "was what the store owner told them. My parents were simply looking for information about the surrounding geography, to find out if there was another town along their way and all. The one person in the village who might know, they were told, was the Revered Father."

After a brief silence, Alistair asked in some confusion, "Revered Father? How odd. Were they some sort of branch of the Imperial Chantry do you think?"

Bryallyn glanced over at Leliana. It was a thought. The Tevinter branch of the Chantry not only had their own Divine, but also allowed male priests. Leliana was clearly giving the matter some thought, her brows furrowing together. "I do not think so," she finally replied. "It would be too difficult to survive for so long without being found out … although …." She paused for a long moment. Shaking her head in confusion, she finally continued. "I _suppose_ it could be possible that a branch of the Tevinter's faith that survived after they left Ferelden … but that just seems so unlikely since the fall of Tevinter here was well before Andraste and the Exalted March …."

Bryallyn found herself musing on this as well. She wondered, if only briefly, what her old tutor, Aldous, would think if he could hear her having this discussion right now. "Whatever the case," she finally continued, "based on what Finian told us, I think we need to head to Haven to find out why these people attacked us. It sounds like they might have an idea of where Brother Genitivi could be found."

"Well, if _that_ is the case," Leliana began while rising to her feet and extending an arm towards Bryallyn, "then you and I have some unfinished business, my dear! Zevran, would you keep an eye on the stew for a few minutes, please?"

The elf chuckled, but was quick to give his assent. "But of course, my musical friend."

Leliana grasped Bryallyn's hand when the Warden was slow to respond and began pulling her to her feet. "Come on!"

Bryallyn stumbled a bit at the suddenness with which she gained her feet. "Leliana … what are you doing?" she mumbled as the bard began pulling her through the camp. Behind her she could hear both Alistair and Zevran chuckling.

"If we are going to Haven, _you_ are going to get some new armor! Bodahn, did you fetch it for me?" she called out.

"Indeed I did, m'lady!" the dwarf hollered back. "Master Wade had it ready as you asked!"

"Leliana, what is going on?" Bryallyn asked in confusion as they came to a halt beside Bodahn's wagon.

"Well, you were so intent upon helping the rest of us while we were in Denerim," the bard explained while handing over some coins to the dwarf, "after that incident at Marjolaine's house, Wynne and Alistair and I decided we needed to do something for you."

"Here you are, miss."

Leliana's gasp was quite audible as she took the new armor from the dwarf. "Oooh! This is marvelous!" she exclaimed, a bright light shining in her eyes like a child on their birthday. Turning to Bryallyn, she told her, "Now, take that armor off and try this. Master Wade is supposed to be one of the best armorers in all of Ferelden!"

Stunned, it wasn't until Leliana reached out and began working on Bryallyn's buckles that the younger woman reacted. "But … I …." Truth be told, Bry knew she needed armor that would fit her better, but other than the family sword she carried and the shield Alistair used, this was her last connection to her family, and she was loathe to part with it.

Leliana seemed to sense this. Reaching out, she rested a hand on Bryallyn's shoulder. "Look," she murmured before gesturing towards the new armor.

Bryallyn gasped as she examined the leather a bit more closely. The new armor had the Highever and Cousland crests emblazoned upon it! "Leli! What? I mean, how? I mean …."

Leliana saw tears leak out the edges of Bryallyn's eyes and quickly hugged her friend. "When I was speaking with Master Wade, he mentioned-bragged, more like!- that he had made armor for many of the nobility in Ferelden. I asked if that meant he could make some fit for a Cousland and he agreed." Well, it hadn't been _that_ simple she supposed, but in the end, he had agreed and that was all that had mattered. "Now, try it on. Please?"

Silently, Bryallyn did so. Bodahn assisted by taking the pieces of old armor from her, "To put up until a later time," he assured her, and Leliana helped her into the new. A short time later, buckles tightened, adjustments made, Leliana stepped back. "So. What do you think?"

Bryallyn still felt overwhelmed and was fighting back tears as she touched the armor where it flared out just enough to protect her expanding waistline. Leliana had shown her how it was adjustable, that Wade had made alterations to the design (and not without complaint!) so it would continue to accommodate her increasing girth as her pregnancy advanced. "This … this is just …." Bryallyn tried to find the words to express her gratitude, but she was having difficulty getting past the generosity of her friends.

Leliana chuckled and began leading Bryallyn back over to the fire. "That is enough," she assured her quietly. "It fits, it will keep you and your child safe, yes? And," she added with a twinkle in her eye, "it is quite stylish!"

This last did cause Bryallyn to laugh a bit, and appeared to be just enough to move her beyond her momentary emotions. "Thank you," she murmured, turning to give the bard a quick hug. "And I will be sure to thank Alistair and Wynne later as well."

Leliana patted Bryallyn's shoulder as they continued on then, each moving to sit beside the fire. Zevran was just stirring the stew while attempting (and succeeded, Leliana noted) to goad Alistair into another of his red-faced blushing sessions. But with their arrival, the two men turned to comment upon their leader's new armor and the moment passed, though, Leliana did make note of it so that she would work on it the next time she had the time to work with Alistair. For now, however, she would focus on the moment at hand, the company of friends and the simple daily tasks of life, including feeding the troops.


	61. Sitting on the Docks

_Right then … one of the joys (and occasionally curses depending on my muse's level of cooperation at the time) is the fact that I get to make up a lot of the stuff that happens in this story since it's AU and has Nathaniel in where he wasn't before. When I do come up with these ideas, I do try to make it blend in as seamlessly with the story plot as possible, little things mostly, but I think it works most of the time. So, that said, Nathaniel and co. are back in this chapter ... and a mystery guest finally shows himself!_

_Thanks to all who keep reading, reviewing and lurking as well as you generous souls who add me to your favs and alerts status including: Erynnar, Liso66 and ProsePrincess! _

_Thanks again to my invaluable betas - **MireliAmbar, Erynnar** and **Liso66** this time! _

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N:** Musical Inspiration: "Go" by Asia, "Goodbye to You" by Scandal, "Watercolour" by Pendulum, and "Shadow of the Moon" by Blackmore's Night._

* * *

Nathaniel and his companions spent several days with the Chasind, but it became quite clear rather quickly that even the Wilder folk were preparing to move on … and soon. Between Fergus and K'danya, Nathaniel came to realize that the moves were something happening with increasing frequency, and the reason was all too clear. The darkspawn horde, and with them the Blight, was on the move. It was on the morning of the sixth day since his arrival that Nathaniel and Fergus came to an agreement. It was time for them to leave. With several last, quiet instructions from K'danya, and a pouch of tea leaves, Fergus bade her and the other Chasind farewell as best he could despite the language barrier between them.

The journey for the new teyrn was arduous given the extent of his injuries. Nathaniel, out of earshot of his brother-by-marriage gave instruction to both Nyles and Padraig to keep an eye upon their lord and to be certain that he received what assistance was required. Even if the man protested. The two warriors agreed without question. Nathaniel's hope was that by the plain and simple fact that both men were of Highever, it would make acceptance of their help that much easier for Fergus.

Their journey out of the Wilds took them some weeks, most spent retracing the paths that the Chasind had brought them in upon. After a considerable time, however, the landscape began to resolve itself into something somewhat familiar to Grayson and Gryffyd, enough at any rate they could firmly tell Nathaniel that they were on the right path out of the Wilds. This did not, however, speed up their progress, and Nathaniel soon found himself with a challenging decision to make. They could turn west and north, head towards the hilly and eventually mountainous climbs leading to Rainesfere and hope that there might still be additional Highever men there while praying that Bann Teagan would take in a somewhat crippled man and provide him with proper treatment and healing for his wounds, or they could turn north and east, heading out into the relatively flatter country of the Bannorn that would no doubt be crawling with darkspawn in addition to the men that his father and Loghain had sent out, no doubt. Highever would _not_ be a destination; not so long as Rendon was claiming the teyrnir. But if they went somewhere other than Highever, where? Did they dare venture towards Denerim, so close to his father's ancestral lands and where his control was more solidified? Nathaniel had to believe that his father knew by now that he was still alive, that Devlyn had failed in his mission to assassinate him ….

In the end, however, it was Fergus who made the decision for him. "I will not leave you now," he informed Nathaniel the night they broke free of the Wilds. "I did not leave one group of caretakers to be dumped upon another."

Sighing, Nathaniel faced his brother-in-law, their eyes meeting across the campfire. "Fergus, be reasonable! You know as well as I do that Bann Teagan can offer you what we cannot. He has access to healers, a safe place to rest and recuperate …."

"No!" Fergus' tone was harsh, filled with anger and still-new pain. "This is _MY_ fight too, Nate! Until we find justice for my family, it will remain so. I can pull my own weight -"

"You already slow us down!" Internally, Nathaniel was hating to play this card, but someone had to show Fergus that the timing was not yet right. "In the time that it has taken us to leave the Chasind behind, we could be nearly to Rainesfere if you were healthy and whole! Instead, we have barely broken free of the Wilds and are only south of Redcliffe!"

Fergus rose to his feet, albeit slowly and stiffly. "I stay," he stated in a flat tone. "End of discussion."

Nathaniel had risen to his feet too, facing off with his friend. "I did not think it possible, but you are even more stubborn and pig-headed than your sister! Even she would admit that this is the right plan of action!"

As Nathaniel turned to stalk away, he heard loud laughter bellowing behind him. "You have obviously not had cause to quarrel seriously with her as of yet, then!" Fergus shouted after him. Nathaniel simply grumbled and made his way towards his tent intending to rest before his turn at the watch that night. As he settled into a rather disgruntled heap upon his bedroll and closed his eyes, he muttered beneath his breath, "Bry, your brother is proving to be quite the pain in the backside!" And though he could almost hear an amused chuckle that sounded suspiciously like his wife, he did not meet her in his dreams that night.

* * *

He continued to keep an eye upon them from a distance, though it had not been an easy task by any means. Every last one of his skills in stealth had been put to the test over the past few months. In the end, only two things had ultimately kept him from their sight: the fact that they did not know he was there, and the distractions of Ostagar.

_Ostagar_.

The word still made him shiver in remembered pain and anguish. So many lost, the near destruction of the Order. The sight of his brothers lost, the newly re-created Order of Ferelden cut down in its infancy. But strangely, no evidence of the one he had expected to find beside his friend. Still, it had been all he could do to just get in and out of the battlefield quickly, just present long enough to verify the deaths of known comrades, memorizing the names of the fallen to do justice to later. There was no time for honors or pyres here at this time, for the darkspawn were still there aplenty and actively on the hunt. He'd had _no time!_ Urgency, promises made he fully intended to keep simply to honor those who had passed, he could not linger there. As it was, he'd had to fight his way back to rejoin his charges, to keep them safe. The fact that they never even knew he was there, had been away, and was now returned was reward in itself for a job well done.

He'd led the way out for them, striking a path clear of all obstacles but those that nature provided. And then, for a time … he had nearly found himself in a panic as out there in the middle of the Wilds he had lost them. For days, he had sought signs of their trail and found nothing. Not a hint. Not a glimmer. He'd all but given up hope, thinking that perhaps his luck had simply run out, that Fate had dealt him a bad hand as she often did when he tried his hands at Wicked Grace. He was no longer able to keep them under surveillance. Six interminably long days and nights in which self doubt began to creep in and he felt despair at the thought of breaking his last promise to a friend ….

… and then his luck had returned nearly tenfold, just as suddenly as it had disappeared. Not only had he found them - or, rather, _they_ had nearly found _him_, practically stumbling across his small camp as they exited the Wilds - but thanks to their new addition to the party, they were moving at a slower pace, giving him time and opportunity to move back into his position in the lead once more. That was how he found himself here, now. Ahead of them. In place. Acting casual, as if he belonged in this place. The only thing setting him apart from the locals in that tavern was his accent, and it was because of this that he did not speak much. But then again, he did not have to. He was a listener. A gatherer. A magnet for information. The one called Trinion had recommended this place where he found himself now. The man's lord, the newly added one to the group, had agreed. He had made an assumption based on this and moved on ahead.

Mere hours ahead of his 'pack,' he had stumbled upon another surprise. More evidence that the Order that Duncan had strove so vigilantly to resurrect had indeed survived. Finian, plied with enough coin, caution and carefully worded questions had provided enough detail that he could fill in the blanks. At least, most of them. And what a picture it was beginning to make, he mused as he made a place for himself in the darkened corner of the common room and simply waited.

* * *

"You are sure about this place?" Nathaniel queried as he, Trinion and Grayson led the way down the hill and towards the inn. The surrounding area could not even be considered a town, so small was it. Nathaniel had seen no evidence of homes or businesses other than the inn (and a rather worn down one at that) and a nearby boat dock. An inn along the shores of the Lake Calenhad … but for what purpose? In the distance, Nathaniel could see the hazy shape of a spire as it worked its way into the sky. The Circle Tower. He supposed the proximity of the inn to the Tower might serve a purpose, but how likely were the mages to receive visitors? Did the Templars even allow that?

"Aye, my lord," Trinion returned then, his words breaking into Nathaniel's thoughts. He and Grayson exchanged a quick, knowing look that Nathaniel could not fail to miss. Rolling his eyes, Nathaniel asked with some trepidation, "What is it this time?"

The two men of Highever both chuckled, but it was the voice behind Nathaniel that responded to his question. "Have they not told you yet?" Fergus hobbled a bit faster to catch up to them. "Grayson's family is related to nearly all of the innkeepers throughout Ferelden."

Nathaniel was shocked enough to stop walking, a move that caused Fergus to nearly run into him. Automatically reaching out his arm to give his friend support, Nathaniel breathed, "Maker's breath, you're putting me on!"

Fergus laughed and shook his head. "Sadly, I'm not. Though, given our current circumstances that might not be a bad thing. I think we can at least rely upon the innkeeper's discretion about our visit, yes?" His eyes traveled over to Grayson how nodded quickly.

Moving once again, Nathaniel darted a quick look over at his scout whose look turned a bit sheepish. "Just slipped your mind, I take it?" Nathaniel challenged softly.

Grayson's grin widened then. "Something like that, my lord," he agreed before scurrying on ahead towards the building.

Fergus' amusement had settled into a soft chuckle. "I'm somewhat surprised he had not yet told you."

"Oh, I knew about the cousin in Highever," Nathaniel explained as they approached the doorway. He reached out to open the door and hold it open for Fergus and was about to walk through himself when a glimmer of the setting sun behind him flickered upon a patch of discoloration just beneath his fingertips. That caught his eye enough that his curiosity kicked in, his other senses following quickly behind. The location was just above his eye level. Logic suggested that it had been caused by a lantern or a torch, but for two reasons, Nathaniel knew this not to be the case. First, the scorched area upon the wood was too widespread and too darkened, looking as if it had been caused by impact rather than by something that had been resting upon it. Though what sort of impact, he could not quite say. Second, there were no other indications that any lantern or such had ever hung in that area. No signs of brackets or braces that would have held something in place against the wood. No scars or weathered lines in the wood to suggest that the sun had beaten down upon it and marked the wood for all time.

He must have hesitated a moment too long because Fergus turned back to face him, taking a step back in his direction. He seemed about to speak when his eyes followed Nathaniel's line of sight. Eyes widening at what he saw there, Nathaniel began to suspect that Fergus was having similar thoughts to his own. Shaking his head for the moment, Nathaniel urged his friend inside and followed Fergus to the bar where Grayson, Trinion and the others in their party had gathered and were now accepting drinks. Soon, both he and Fergus had their own drinks in hand, promises of a meal forthcoming and rooms to follow soon after, all that remained was a place to sit.

"Please, join me if you like."

Nathaniel heard the accented voice calling from the corner near the hearth and reacted by glancing over at Fergus for his opinion. The room was crowded, tables filled but this one. When Fergus shrugged slightly, Nathaniel decided to take the chance and began heading over. As he neared, he realized that something in the man's tone seemed familiar, but he could not quite place it. "Thank you, friend," he said by way of greeting, gesturing for Fergus, Trinion and Rhyan to seat themselves as well. The rest of the men were scattered throughout the tavern, their eyes upon their leaders should they be needed but otherwise removed from the current discussion. "We are much obliged."

Though still seated in the shadows, the voice rumbled softly in a deep, raspy chuckle as its owner began to lean forward a bit in order to join in the conversation. As he did so, Nathaniel noticed the flames reflecting off of the man's face, accentuating sharpish, almost hawkish features. Nathaniel felt his gaze narrow just a bit. "You have traveled a long way, have you not?" the man enquired, his grey eyes meeting Nathaniel's. Again, Nathaniel felt that peculiar tingling sensation at the back of his mind as if he had met this man before. "It would be most unwise not to rest one's legs after such a journey."

"Indeed," Nathaniel returned before lifting his tankard in silent salute.

Apparently, Nathaniel was not the only member of the group to find their new companion somewhat familiar. "Forgive me if I seem too forward," Rhyan murmured, "but have we met before? I feel as if I ought to know you."

Another good natured chuckle. "Indeed we have, m'amoiselle," he replied, his voice now more like a raspy purr, "though I am quite impressed that you should remember. The last we met we were but ships passing in the night …."

Though Rhyan still appeared confused if the look on her face was any indication, the man's carefully chosen words finally triggered something in Nathaniel's memories. "Aboard ship," he murmured in amazement, "just before we docked in West Hills."

The man smiled then, his teeth shining brighter in the firelight. "It is so," he agreed with a nod.

Nathaniel held the man's gaze as he heard Trinion, Rhyan and Fergus murmuring around him, presumably the two bringing Fergus up to speed with the circumstances of their first encounter with this stranger. "So then," Nathaniel asked after the voices had died back down enough that he could be heard once more, "are we to presume that you have been … trailing us? Tracking us? This entire time?"

"Protecting you would be more accurate," the man returned. Leaning further forward and into the light, he announced just loud enough for their ears only, "Let me introduce myself. My name is Riordan. I am a Grey Warden from out of Jader. I was comrade-in-arms with the Warden Commander of Ferelden. Before Highever fell, Duncan sent word to me in Jader, asking that I track you down," he looked directly at Nathaniel, "in the Free Marches and ensure your safe return to this country."

Nathaniel and Fergus exchanged a quick look. Both men had met the Warden Commander in Highever before their departures. "But … why?" Nathaniel felt obligated to ask. "Why me? Why not Fergus? Or -"

A look of sympathy passed over Riordan's dark features. "I wish I had answers for you, my friend," he replied quietly, "but sadly all I know was in the brief missive that Duncan sent me. It was requested that I find you, see you safely returned and assist you to Ostagar if necessary. Duncan seemed to be impressed with your skills, and those of your wife."

Another silence. "My wife." Nathaniel's words came out flat and neutral as he intended them to be. He had felt Fergus stiffen beside him, but thankfully his brother-in-law remained silent for the moment.

Riordan nodded. "She lives. You know this, yes?"

Nathaniel's eyes narrowed sharply at that. "How do you know? What proof do you have?" Beneath the table, Nathaniel slid his hand over to Fergus' leg and squeezed once, sharply to keep the other man silent. This was an avenue he had to explore fully before anything was said of what they knew.

"Duncan mentioned to me his intentions of traveling to Ostagar and taking your wife along with him. Of inviting her to join the Order. From what I have been able to gather since arriving in Ferelden, things did not quite happen according to plan."

Fergus snorted then, bitterly muttering, "Yeah, you could say that."

Riordan gave a moment's pause, as if to acknowledge the other man's pain, before he continued. "Those were Duncan's intentions, yes. But then Howe attacked and plans, as we all know, in the heat of battle can change. They did again at Ostagar too, I believe. I followed you there, intent to keep my promise to my friend. And while you mourned your losses, I did my duty. Wardens are meant to fight darkspawn, and so I did. Did you not wonder why your journey there and through the Wilds was so uneventful?" Riordan tossed back his drink then. "It was while clearing the surrounding area that I found evidence that suggests that the Wardens of Ferelden had been destroyed."

Nathaniel's eyes narrowed further. "And yet you tell me that my wife is a Warden and she lives?"

Riordan nodded. "Or rather, I tell you that your wife lives and that, most likely based on what I knew Duncan's plans to be, she is now a Warden. I found proof of two Wardens fighting to freedom, far away from the others in Ostagar. Just how they broke free from the darkspawn, I cannot explain, but I can tell you this much: your wife would be the only female Warden in all of this country. And if she was not, she would have been left under the protection of another Warden for her safety. Either way, I did not find her remains with any of the Wardens. I was able to account for all of Duncan's recruits but your wife and one other. They would have been the two newest recruits, the least experienced in fighting the darkspawn. I believe that they were held back, kept from the main part of the battle."

"To what end?" Fergus demanded.

Riordan shrugged. "To ensure that the Wardens survived? To secure the future of the Order in your country? I cannot give you an answer that I do not have."

"That is your proof then?" Nathaniel challenged. "The fact that you did not find her body amongst the others?"

"There is more," Riordan assured him. "I know for a fact that just by a matter of a few weeks, you have missed her and her companions, here." He used a hand to make an all inclusive gesture around the room.

Again, Nathaniel held the man's gaze as the voices around them rose in confusion. "The scorch marks? On the door?" His comment silenced his companions just as surely as if he had reached out and closed their mouths himself.

"Yes. Sadly, those in positions of knowledge have been sworn to secrecy to protect the members of that group." Riordan seemed almost dismayed at that fact, and Nathaniel could not help but wonder if he took it as a personal affront that he had not been able to find the answers he seemed to want or need so badly. "But, she is alive and we should find her."

Nathaniel glanced over at Fergus one last time then and saw his friend shake his head in a negative manner, just enough to answer the silent question that Nathaniel had sent. Turning his attention back to Riordan, Nathaniel asked, "And how do we do that, if you do not know where she is?"

Riordan did chuckle at this, an amused smirk playing at his lips just then. "I have been following you for months, observing you without you even noticing." Glancing up and across the room to the bar where Grayson stood leaning somewhat casually against the counter, he ventured, "Do you not think I know who is related to whom in these parts?"

Nathaniel turned to glance across the room over at Grayson and noticed the scout's brow raise in slight surprise. However, the man was not so stunned that he could not react when Nathaniel signaled he should attempt talking to Finian on their behalf, pulling his cousin off to the side and engaging in a deep discussion.

One of the serving girls brought food at that moment, placing it before them upon the table. They partook of the meal then, mild and casual conversation amongst and surrounding them, and for some time were content with the current circumstances. It had been a long while since most had eaten anything but what they had prepared themselves and, as middle-of-the-road as the tavern might be, the food was truly excellent when compared to camp food night after night after night.

Most were just scraping the bottom of the bowl with their last crusts of bread when Grayson came over and joined them, pulling up a seat from a nearby table. Positioning himself between Fergus and Nathaniel, the scout announced in a somewhat subdued tone, "I'm sorry. Finian is frightened by something. What that something is, he will not tell me. All he will say is that he refuses to go back against his word to Lady Bryallyn." Grayson gave Nathaniel an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, my lord."

Nathaniel found himself completely confused. _Bryallyn? Intimidating? _He just couldn't picture it. And, though he had no clue with whom she traveled these days, he did find it difficult to believe that she would allow intimidation to such an extent without stopping it. _Or had she changed so much?_ he wondered. _Did she see something that night that affected her so deeply …._

"The only thing he could tell me was that when they parted company, he did step outside to watch them leave," Grayson continued. "He said he saw them heading north. Beyond that, he will say nothing."

Nathaniel met Fergus' gaze. "Highever?" he mused.

"I would say this," Riordan interjected before Fergus could respond. "There is at least one Grey Warden in that group. The duty of the Grey Wardens is to end the Blight, whatever the cost. And, while I know that you and she have a personal connection to Highever and would dearly like to see justice prevail there," his gaze met and held both men's at that point, "their first duty will always have to be to stop the Blight."

Fergus sighed almost dejectedly as did Nathaniel. "Not Highever then."

"If not there, then … where?"

Nathaniel scrubbed his face with his hands for a moment, attempting to recall any and all maps of Ferelden he had ever viewed. "The Imperial Highway is north," he murmured as he mentally reviewed it all. "From there, they can go east across the Bannorn towards Denerim or west around Lake Calenhad towards the Frostback Mountains."

"The Wardens have ancient treaties with the dwarves, the elves and the Tower for assistance in time of need," Riordan added. "If they have access to these treaties, then perhaps they are recruiting allies?"

Rhyan frowned in thought. "Perhaps they were here to obtain the mages help then and are now heading to Orzammar?"

Nathaniel found himself nodding in agreement with her, the darkened splotch upon the doorway coming to mind. He knew little about spells, but he was aware that there were elemental ones that used fire and lightning. Either could have caused such a mark.

"I find myself more curious as to how one or two Wardens, all alone in Ferelden, aim to succeed in defeating the Blight all by themselves," Trinion mused.

Riordan chuckled. "You anticipate me, my friend," he murmured. "Part of the reason I chose to make myself known to you today was because I must part ways with you and head to Denerim. I have kept my promise as best that I can," Nathaniel nodded his agreement to that, "and I know that Duncan kept records of personal contacts throughout various smaller Warden compounds around Thedas. If I can find this list, I can contact some of the closer ones in his name, request their assistance and increase our numbers sufficiently so that success against the Blight can be assured."

Nathaniel nodded, his eyes meeting Fergus' again. "I think that would be a good start," he returned. "And while you do that we can … proceed to Orzammar?"

Fergus shrugged. "I don't see why not," he replied. "I have my doubts whether or not we will find them, but if nothing else, perhaps my status as Cousland heir might help with something. Father was always on friendly terms with the dwarves."

"It is decided then." Riordan raised his tankard, silently saluting his companions. "In war, victory," he toasted them. "And Maker willing, we shall meet in the not too distant future to celebrate together once more."

A short time later, Riordan rose and gestured Nathaniel aside. Nathaniel followed, intrigued by the man who not a few hours before had been a stranger to him. "I suspect," the Warden told him quietly, "that our paths will take some time to cross once more. No doubt we will all face trials and tribulations that would send those much weaker to their knees. You have the potential for great leadership. I think I can see what Duncan saw in you."

Nathaniel blinked, somewhat embarrassed by the man's praise, yet pleased all the same. "You hardly know me," he protested.

"I trusted Duncan's judgement," Riordan told him sincerely. "I have no reason to believe otherwise." He began leading the way out the door and smiled when Nathaniel followed. "I must leave tonight, my friend. I travel best alone, preferably by dark so that I can use the shadows to my advantage." Nathaniel nodded. "One more thing, young Howe."

The tone of voice sent chills down his spine, but Nathaniel still managed to respond. "Yes?"

Riordan flashed him a somewhat cheeky grin. "Always remember, should times become too difficult and you need inspiration … always look to the griffon." And without further word, he turned and left Nathaniel there, confused expression and all, and slipped into the dark of the night to head eastward.


	62. Lasting Impressions

_Thanks to all for reading, reviewing and lurking, and those who have set favs and alerts including: Liso66, Erynnar, naomis8329, WinterBear, ranmagirl1980, and bergamot29._

_Thank you to my wonderful betas - **MireliAmbar, Liso66** and **Erynnar** who are always ready to challenge me when necessary to make sure my point comes across the way I intend for it to!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N: Musical Inspiration:** Alrighty … Have to put this here, and surprisingly it fits somewhat with the chapter: "Subdivisions" by Rush has been haunting me in my dreams even over the last few days! Also, "It's My Life" by Bon Jovi, "The Clock Ticks On" by Blackmore's Night, "Makin' It" by David Naughton, "Go Your Own Way" by Fleetwood Mac, and "Destination Unknown" from the "Top Gun" soundtrack._

* * *

Cold. Dank. Damp. Dark. Her entire life had been spent here. Birth, childhood, adulthood … and all that came in between. Most of the memories from this place were far from pleasant. The majority of them centered around her father and his unrealistic beliefs and desires of his own distorted ideas of how things should be. The grudges he had held inside for so long making him so hateful and hurtful to others and resentful to the entire world around him in general, had begun here, boiling furiously over the years into such a fetid and festering wound that she found it a wonder he had not lost his sanity from it. His ever increasing need to always gain more. More lands. More titles. More prestige. More everything. Certainly more than what he had, and most definitely more than what he had a right too.

But survive he had, though she knew there were many out there, herself now included in the growing number, that believed he had indeed lost his sanity because of it. To go against a long-standing friendship, killing innocents and friends along the way simply in the name of _want_. It did not make sense to her and she sincerely hoped it never would. If there was one thing she was learning out of all of this, it was that she was eternally thankful that she seemed to favor her mother's side of the family. Though little comfort (her mother's side was not much better in some ways), it was something at least.

Moving through the keep, the only sound the soft rustling of her skirts and soft-soled steps against the stone beneath her, Delilah sought solace of some sort. Her steps were light and quick as she moved along, seeking the steps to the rooftop and battlements above. It was as good a place as any to find peace and quiet, time alone with her thoughts.

Since that day in the basement, she had not physically returned, though her thoughts often did. She could not help but wonder at the fates of Rory Gilmore or Mother Mollol. Varel had assured her as he escorted her back to safety that all that could be done had been done. What exactly that meant, she did not know, nor was she certain she wanted to, and so she left it to Fate to determine. The one positive thing she could pull from it was that Varel had always been an honest man with her before. The man said what he thought, what he meant, and he did not mince words about it either. It was this characteristic that had driven Rendon Howe to dismiss him as Seneschal after questioning the Arl's choices one too many times. She could trust Varel, that much she knew, and it was something she was coming to rely upon increasingly.

She found the access to the battlements then and began climbing, her thoughts needing the open air and space to break free around her, from her, and away from her. Thank the Maker, her father was now gone from this place! Now that he added the title of Arl of Denerim to his long list of entitlements, he hardly saw fit to stay in communication - either written or physical - with those who remained at Vigil's Keep. Oh, he had left his most trusted offspring (Delilah could not hold back a snort of derision at that thought) in charge, having had Thomas declared Arl of Amaranthine in his stead just as he had always wanted. But everyone knew it was really the elder who retained the real power behind the title. Spending his days lost in his cups, barely coherent and certainly less than observant to the conditions surrounding him, Thomas was simply biding his time.

Delilah burst through the doorway then, gasping in fresh air in huge draughts as if to clear her mind, body and soul of everything that seemed to be smothering her. She walked over to the edge of the battlements, staring down below at the few men who bothered to train in the main courtyard. She knew these men to be the bottom of the barrel, so to speak. The majority of her father's men were stationed at Highever and attempting to keep order there. Delilah felt her heart squeeze tight at that thought. Since her father would not, she carried the guilt for what had happened there. For the death of friends, even family.

As for the rest of the men, her father had taken his best and most trusted with him to Denerim. What good were soldiers if you could not trust that they would not betray you or stab you in the back the moment that opportunity presented itself? The men who remained at Amaranthine were loyal to the name Howe, yet when it came down to brass tacks, Delilah knew that it was merely lip service. Thomas had not earned their respect, nor did he deserve it. Too lost in his inebriation, Rendon's son never seemed to realize the fine line he walked there. Life at the Keep continued somewhat near normal only thanks to Varel, not quite Seneschal once again yet the only man at the Keep to whom the men, the staff and the family all turned to and relied upon. It was he who held it all together here.

Sighing, Delilah leaned against the wall of stone and stared off into the distance. Why had her father had to do this? His actions were abhorrent … and solely his own. She had been into the city of Amaranthine once or twice since the fall of Highever, had come into contact with many of the population who lived there. Most said nothing of what had happened, content to remain silent, afraid of retribution, Delilah was certain. It was a logical fear, she knew. And, depending on what was said or who said it, Delilah knew retaliation could come from one of several quarters. Her father or Bann Esmerelle being the most likely of the list. But beneath all of that, if one found the right places to listen, the real rumblings could be heard. And it was from those quiet disgruntled comments that Delilah found out just how the common folk of Amaranthine felt about her father … and by association, her entire family. Outside of Amaranthine, she was certain she could expect this sort of thing, but from within?

The sound of approaching footsteps behind her had Delilah spinning around, her hand rising to her throat in surprise. No one ever …. "Varel!" she gasped in relief, her fright easing itself into something less heart pounding.

"My pardons for frightening you, my lady," he apologized as he stepped closer.

Delilah waved his words away. "Never mind," she told him. "My silliness, I suppose. I assume you were looking for me?"

Varel nodded, and it was with sudden realization that Delilah noticed his once black hair was now nearly all grey. _We have done this to him_, she thought. _Father mostly, but we are all responsible._ "Yes, my lady. The healer, Ceila, has sent me to fetch you."

Concern rose immediately and Delilah lifted her eyes to meet his. "Mother?"

"I am afraid so."

Moving quickly, Delilah turned to return inside the keep. "Tell me," she pleaded as they walked along, heading towards the back of the keep where her mother's sick room was located. Her mother had taken ill shortly after the fall of Highever and with the news that Nathaniel had been killed in the attacks. Since that time, either by choice or by request, she had been bedridden. Ceila had been tending to her every day since, and often could be found there even when her relief had arrived. Thomas refused to visit. Delilah found it a place to where she could escape when things were becoming too oppressive … or if she just needed a moment away from daily life. It wasn't that she was extraordinarily close with her mother, but the two women had become if not somewhat closer, certainly an understanding had been reached since the elder had taken ill.

And so Varel gave Delilah an update as they hurried through the dimly lit corridors of the keep. They were nearing their destination when Varel pulled Delilah to the side and murmured, "My lady, I find myself in a bit of an awkward position here."

Confused, Delilah remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

"Your mother has asked me to express to you the need for you to leave here."

"Leave?" she echoed.

Varel nodded. "She begged me to urge you to get out from beneath your father's control, to find a life of your own." The man sighed heavily. "I have to admit, I do agree with her ladyship on this."

Delilah felt quick tears form behind her eyes then. Reaching out, she patted his arm gently and murmured, "I know you do. Whether you've said it aloud or not, I could sense it for a while now. Ever since that day …."

Varel nodded, understanding immediately the day to which she referred. "I beg you, my lady," he told her. "Leave. Ceila, too. With your mother gone, I suspect your father will try using you as a pawn of some sort. If that were to happen, I would not be in a position to protect you."

Turning towards the door to her mother's room, Delilah offered the man a smile. "I will consider it," she returned quietly and then entered the room.

The room was dimly lit, even the fire in the hearth was burning low at this point, and Delilah had to struggle to see through the gloom. To her right, sitting beside her mother's bed, she finally spotted the mage. Ceila glanced up then, her amber eyes meeting Delilah's blue and gave a soft shake of her head. It was then, in the silence around them that Delilah heard the raspy gasps for breath that her mother struggled with. Time was short.

Delilah took a few steps more inside and soon seated herself on the edge of her mother's bed, opposite from Ceila. "I am here mother. Varel found me." She watched, her heart aching, as her mother struggled to turn her head to look at her. Leaning forward, Delilah reached out for her mother's hand and tightened her own around it. "It's alright," she promised quietly. "He told me."

"Go," the older Howe breathed, her voice broken, raspy and rattling from illness. "Promise." And then, her mother reached out for Ceila's hand as well, pulling the mage's hand to cover Delilah's, and then covering both with her own. "Go."

It was the last thing Delilah heard her mother say as she gave in to the illness that had been claiming her, slowly but surely, for so many months. When finally her body did give out, Delilah rose to her feet and stood there, alone, for a long moment.

"Ceila?"

The mage moved to stand beside her, murmuring softly, "I am ready."

Delilah nodded and turned towards the door. "Meet me in my rooms in a half hour," she instructed. "We will be gone before anyone notices." Silently, the mage nodded and departed. Before Delilah could leave, Varel entered. He paused for a moment, giving his mistress a moment of silence, before turning towards the daughter. "I heard what you told Ceila, my lady, and I will see to it that you are not discovered," he promised. "Now, go. Get what things you can. You will find a blade and a bow in your room as well. Take them. Learn how to defend yourself."

Delilah stepped over and gave the man an affectionate hug. "Thank you, Varel," she murmured before departing, leaving her past behind her.

* * *

Thanks in part to knowing some of the secret passages in the Keep, but also having a promise by Varel, Delilah and Ceila were able to exit the Keep without anyone being the wiser. The passage Delilah had chosen led them out the southeastern corner of the castle, an exit far enough from the main part of the keep to give them additional protection from those who might have seen. Partially hidden by the side of a hill and the trees and brush in the area surrounding it, Delilah and Ceila were able to get away cleanly, slipping into the cover of the trees and heading south and east. Delilah had an idea of where she wanted to go, based off of memories from years past spent traversing the area with Nathaniel.

"How far?"

Ceila's words were quiet as they walked along, keeping to the trees as much as possible. "Not too far," Delilah promised. She had a particular place in mind. A small hunting hut tucked away in the overgrown and far backwood area of the Wending Wood. A place that Nathaniel had showed her once when he had convinced her to go along with him while he had hunted and then made certain she knew how to find it on her own. A place he had told her to which she could run if ever she needed to be free from the Keep, the reason didn't matter.

And so she now fled.

It took longer than she expected, but she figured that was simply because it had been later in the day that they had left the Keep. They made good time, arriving with enough light, even in the dense forest, to scrounge up enough firewood to last through the night. Ceila had raided the kitchens before meeting Delilah, and so they had food to get them through one day, perhaps two if they were careful. The hut itself was tiny, with barely enough room for a small hearth, a table and a bed; but it was enough. And both women noted almost immediately that it had been kept up well enough over the years. From the smell, the mattress had been stuffed fairly recently, though the dust on the table suggested that it had been several weeks at the very least. Still, all in all, it was something to start with and better than nothing.

The first night was spent in a complete and utter exhaustive state. No dreams, no nothing. When Delilah woke with the sunlight creeping in the tiny window the next morning, she found she could barely believe that the night had already passed them by. She and Ceila began the day by evaluating the hut again (daylight certainly made a difference!) and then making an agreed upon list of priorities on which the two women worked together. Survival would require that they both knew what to do, and there was no better time to learn than the present.

Days passed. Then weeks. At first, it was a bit difficult, trying to figure out how to do things they were either used to someone else doing for the, or that they simply had no idea how it was done, or hadn't the skills in which to accomplish said task. There were failures aplenty (including occasionally going hungry when the traps weren't set right or a makeshift fishing net had a hole in it from knots not being tied properly), often leaving the women befuddled and bemused, but often looking for the humor in the situation as a way of making it through. Delilah still could find a giggle when thinking of the incident with the fishing net, remembering the look of utter dismay on Ceila's water-drenched features. Though to be quite fair, Delilah was certain she had looked like a drowned rat herself.

Along with those failures came an increasing number of victories. Delilah's first successful attempts at hitting a target that she was aiming for with the bow and arrows Varel had left her and having the point stick thanks to enough force behind the shot had filled her with more thrills than anything thus far. While she might not be as skilled with the weapon as her brother or even Bryallyn, and a target did not fill a hungry belly at night, it was a start and she found great joy in that.

On a daily basis, both women were well aware of one of the true dangers that they now faced being free of the Keep. Finding themselves away from what protections the Arl's name could provide meant that Ceila was considered an apostate. Ceila had no Chantry-approved Templar guarddog. But despite this ever present threat (and it was not one they took lightly), the mage would upon occasion entertain her mistress with tiny acts of magic, if only in an attempt to keep Delilah's spirits high. The one trick that had delighted Delilah the most for some reason had been the day that Ceila had shot the smallest of fireballs from one side of the clearing in front of their home to the other as she attempted (successfully) to light the fire beneath the large kettle hanging over it. Why this action had tickled so much, Delilah had no idea, but the fact that it did also emphasized something else to the young noblewoman. She and Ceila had their freedom … and it was time to do something with it.

That night, as they ate their supper together, Delilah tried to find a way to explain this to the mage. Ceila, for her part, nodded knowingly. At the end of the meal, she reached out to pat Delilah's hand, murmuring, "You are your mother's daughter, my lady." Delilah had heard Ceila say that before over the years, and had come to accept that as simply the mage's way of stating that she was nothing like her father. That was more than enough reinforcement for Delilah.

A few days after this discussion, as Delilah stood over a bubbling kettle in which she was doing laundry, she glanced up after suddenly feeling as if someone were watching her. Ceila was off gathering the plants and herbs she needed for her potions at the time. At first, Delilah thought perhaps she was imagining things, being just a bit too paranoid, and so she tried to push the feeling away and get back to the work before her. But later, as she lay the clothing out across the bushes to dry, she felt the sensation again. The hairs on the back of her neck bristling just a bit. Frowning, she kept her actions as normal as possible and moved towards the door to the hut, stepping inside briefly and returning with her bow.

But where she had expected to find templars or bandits, or at the very least, some of her father's men who had tracked her and Ceila down, Delilah instead found herself facing a young couple not much older than herself. At first, she thought it to be only the two of them, but upon closer inspection, she found the woman holding an infant to her shoulder, just barely visible beneath the threadbare cloak she wore. "M'lady," the young man's voice wobbled just slightly, "have you any food to spare?"

As Delilah stood there, the man explained that the food was for his wife, so that she might be able to nurse and feed their son, just barely two months old. After a long moment of indecision, Delilah brought them forward, into the hut and settled them at the table. As she brought forth some of the meager supplies that she and Ceila had and shared them without comment, she found herself asking instead why, with a newborn child, they were out wandering the woods as they were. The nearest settlement was days away. It was then, as he explained, that Delilah began to realize just how bad things were becoming out in the rest of the world around her.

It appeared that in a desperate attempt to rebuild the royal armies after the losses at Ostagar, the Regent had ordered levies on troops. Gangs were now going around the bannorn, searching for any and all able bodied men and even older teens and in the process were ignoring their state of servitude. Free men even were being forced into conscription into the army. The man, Galen, his wife and child were all from one of the bannorns south of Amaranthine, having fled north when the gangs sought to force him to join. A relative had alerted them to the impending arrival of one of the gangs, and they had fled only with what they had on their backs. Since starting their journey, he explained, they had come upon many others in similar straits. It had only been by sheer luck they had ended up in the Wending Woods and at her doorstep.

During his story, Ceila returned. There had been a brief moment of panic by Galen and his wife, first at the thought that they had been found out and would be taken, and then after as the older woman asked to examine the child and his mother, just to be certain all was well with them. Delilah reassured them, vouching for Ceila and while the mage examined her patients, the young noblewoman stepped outside and spoke more with Galen. After a short time, she made yet another decision and suggested that he and his family remain in the forest with her and Ceila. They could all build a small lean-to nearby, something similar to Delilah's, and if he was willing, Galen could assist Delilah with hunting, fishing and other chores around the place. They would help each other out, hiding out in the forest and keeping out of reach of their oppressors.

Galen and his family were but the first to join Delilah and Ceila over the following weeks. Whether word had gotten out and traveled, or people simply sought to survive on their own in any manner that they could, more and more were finding their way into the Wending Woods. And Delilah found ways to help them all. By the time the first hint of cold weather was approaching, Delilah found herself with no less than twenty individuals, most of whom were adults, living in the forest with her. Included among these, to her surprise, were a few Dalish as well. Separated from their clan when injured during a bear attack, they were taken in without question and nursed back to health. In return, and despite innate fears and hatred of humans, the two warriors and one healer remained to assist.

Word got out among her new 'family' about her past and her connection to the current troubles in their lands, but they were surprisingly calm about it. In the end, Delilah came to realize that it was one of the ways in which they could pay her back for her kindness towards them. Trust was a two way path, and she had trusted them. Until or unless given reason to think otherwise, they would trust her. It was this open and willing acceptance that helped Delilah heal then, moving beyond her past and the memories of a father who cared naught but for himself. And, as Ceila had cause to remind her upon occasion, how better to pay tribute to those who had loved her - her mother, Nathaniel, even Bryallyn - than to become who she was meant to be.

"I doubt my brother or Bryallyn would think much of my skills with a bow," Delilah commented one evening beside the fire as she sat mending a pair of breeches while the mage worked with her herbs.

"You sell yourself and your abilities short there, " Ceila replied. "Your brother and his wife both had years to learn what you have been managing in months. While your skills may not be as fine tuned as theirs, you are just as capable as they. I think you will figure that out for yourself once you go hunting with Galen and the others tomorrow too."

Delilah chuckled. "Yes, that should be most interesting," she replied in a dry tone. "I'm sure I'll be hearing Nathaniel's comments all throughout the hunt. 'No Del, it's like this,' or perhaps just that sigh of exasperation he used to do so well." Delilah glanced over at the mage who offered her a sympathetic look. There were times when she desperately wished her brother was around, to offer advice whether openly solicited or not, to annoy her like only he could. Or even just to simply have another family member about. The sadness that had taken hold since the loss of her brother, however, was at last beginning to lessen, though, making it easier for her to remember him without pain. And, while she might never be as skilled with her bow as her Nate, perhaps she could do - or maybe even was doing? - something to honor his memory. "You're right, Ceila," Delilah finally added, finishing up the mending and folding it away for the night. "Tomorrow will tell me all I need to know, I think."


	63. The Man In The Mask

_My apologies for the delay in posting. I've had this chapter ready to go since the weekend, but have been suffering from a horrid migraine for the past few days. _

_I will start off by alerting you to the fact that this chapter most likely falls into the NSFW category simply for some of the suggestive nature of the content. That being said, I was inspired for the idea of this chapter and went to hunting down an appropriate song_._ However, I got stuck on what to use. And then I remembered a song from a DA RP thread last year … and I went searching. And I found it (and others) and I've had so much fun reading the lyrics to the songs I almost couldn't write this chapter! At any rate, the song is one that is used at Renaissance Faires quite frequently and it is called "Roll Your Leg Over." (the lyrics below come from 'the wench version") You can find the lyrics and other entertaining songs at __www atthefaire com (appropriate dots in and spaces removed)_ under the 'faire virgins' section. So I must thank my RP partner for using the song in the first place as well as for giving me enough of the background of it that I was able to hunt it down to use once more! :)

_Thank you to all who continue to read, review and lurk, as well as for setting alerts and favs, including: Liso66, Erynnar, Pollyanna24 and DarkReaver724._

_Thank you also to my fantastic betas with whom discussion is never wasted! **Liso66, MireliAmbar** and **Erynnar** you three are the best!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N:** Musical Inspiration: Focusing on Soundtracks this time around for some reason: "Suspended in Time" from Xanadu, "Love is a Fire" from The Warriors, "Memories" from Top Gun and "A Small Measure of Peace" from The Last Samurai._

* * *

The afternoon was beginning to wane, and to be honest they had been at this for some time after Bryallyn had called an early halt to the day's travels after a somewhat intriguing encounter with a merchant and a control rod. She claimed her decision had nothing to do with that meeting, and Alistair was inclined to believe her. He'd overheard Wynne telling Leliana that Bry was 'pushing too hard' on this journey, or something to that effect. Whether the bard had said or done anything to convince Bryallyn to stop early, Alistair didn't rightly know (they'd been at the back of the group while he had been up front), but either way, the early end to the day's travels had made everyone happy … at least, everyone except perhaps Sten. But, then again, Alistair still wasn't certain he could read the Qunari properly just yet. Maybe he was always this quiet and stoic and somewhat surly.

But they had stopped to make camp, and while everyone else worked on setting up tents and hunting for game and even making the fire, Leliana had coaxed Alistair off to work on their project. When Bryallyn had first requested the bard begin these 'lessons' (Alistair had his doubts as to whether they would actually work or not), the intent had been to help her fellow Warden to move beyond some of his natural concerns, shyness and naivete that often resulted with him turning beet red in embarrassment when anything even the slightest suggestive was said. And while he had argued that some of it was simply a matter of exposure (and promptly turned red when both Leliana and Bryallyn had started giggling) to such things, he found he could not argue that he had just proven their point that he needed to receive some more specialized training to help him cope. As they were quick to point out, all it took was Zevran looking over at him and smirking to get Alistair reacting.

Alistair had lost count how many the weeks and months this 'training' had been taking place. At times he thought he had finally gotten the hang of it, was finally able to mask his immediate feelings well enough that he could continue a discussion safely enough … and then Zevran or Morrigan, or even Leliana would toss just the slightest hint of suggestion - spoken or visual - and he would be right back where he had been before, face and neck flaming and not simply because of his proximity to the heat from the campfire.

So here they were, at it again in this clearing, and Alistair still found himself wondering why this was a good idea. Not that he minded being alone with Leliana. One benefit he could see from all of their time together was that their friendship was growing. The moments when she was honestly not teasing him were some of the nicest he had ever spent with a woman, he thought. That realization had come early on in the training sessions, but more and more of late, he found himself wondering if it wasn't something … more. Sure, he enjoyed her company. He certainly thought she was pretty, and her voice did funny things in his chest, he'd noted, by causing all sorts of fluttery sensations there. But it hadn't been until their departure from Lake Calenhad that he had realized what it most likely was. And _that_ had probably done more to make him forget his lessons than anything.

And Leliana had been smart enough to see that something had happened, though he did not think that she had figured it out quite yet. Which had bought him a bit of time for which he was grateful. He spent much of that time in silent deliberation with himself over what he should do. There was a very good chance that if he confronted her with what he was feeling (or what he _thought _he was feeling) that she would laugh in his face or turn him down flat. Truth be told, that did frighten him just a bit, though he knew it to be the most likely outcome. And now, as she continued to try to work with him, without the knowledge as to why he had reverted back to almost where he'd been at the beginning, he realized he would have to say something.

But, he had to give her credit for coming up with ingenious methods, he thought. Today's in particular seemed to be putting him on severe trial. If he had to listen to any more bawdy poetry ….

"This isn't working."

The interruption was enough to give Leliana pause mid-stride as she walked around him, the stanzas bouncing off her lips as she read it aloud to him. Turning to face him, she pressed her lips together and he saw them turn downward into a pout. Maker, but she certainly knew how to play him! "But you aren't even giving it a chance, Alistair!" she protested. "Now, let's try this again, shall we?"

A heavy and reluctant sigh echoed throughout the clearing then. Alistair leaned back against the boulder he had semi-officially declared as his seat for this 'performance' and crossed his arms over his chest. He watched her closely then, his eyes searching first her face and then down her neck and then even lower, almost as if looking for signs that ….

"Alistair!"

He jumped as she called his name scoldingly. "Hmmm? Ouch!" One hand flew immediately to the back of his head where Leliana had just smacked him to get his attention. "Whaaaaat?"

"You are supposed to be paying attention!"

It was that giggle, he decided as she went back to her recitations. That soft, lilting bubble of laughter of hers that so often had tempted him into this position to begin with. And suddenly, he understood all too clearly that he would have to tell her. He was prepared, perhaps instinctively knowing that it would come down to this, and had brought the small token with him today. It was there, tucked away in the pack he always carried when they went off on these little ventures. Wrapped up in a cloth, lying atop the last of the cheese he'd stashed away for a snack later, just waiting for the right moment.

A string of irritated Orlesian broke into his thoughts then and Alistair glanced beside him to find Leliana standing there, glowering, snapping the book shut practically right beneath his nose. "How are you to learn from this if you do not pay attention?" she demanded.

Mouth suddenly dry as he found those blue eyes staring into his own, almost as if looking deep into his soul …. He felt the blush that spread to his cheeks then. And another failure … to add to the list of so many. Sighing, he glanced away. "Sorry," he murmured in a dejected tone as he sought for some sort of guidance. He needed to tell her, but did he have the courage to do so? "I guess … I'm just a bit … distracted today." _Lame excuse_, he told himself.

Alistair looked back at her and saw her irritation shift into a frown of concern and he found himself wondering just what she was thinking. She took a stab at it though by asking softly, gently, "Are you thinking of Duncan, perhaps?"

Alistair blinked before turning his startled gaze fully towards her. "What? No!" he protested immediately. And then, more calmly, "No, it isn't that." Again he felt heat rushing up his neck towards his face. How was he to explain?

"Well, I will agree, you certainly do not seem to be yourself today," she admitted. "Is there something I can help with?"

Alistair's hand moved to the back of his neck, rubbing the skin there in a gesture he often used when trying to speak through his embarrassment. "No … I-I don't think so." _Coward!_ Silently, he began calling himself all kinds of fool then. _Tell her!_

And then, before he could do much else, he saw her step closer, her eyes boring up into his for a long moment. At first, he didn't understand, but when her eyes widened then, a soft gasp slipping past her lips, he realized she must have figured it out. How she did that, he wasn't quite sure. He wasn't even positive that she had come to the correct conclusion, but figured she must have come close, otherwise the look in her eyes would not be softening right in front of him and her hand would not be rising to touch his arm. "Alistair …."

The silence surrounded them then for a long moment, almost separating the pair from the rest of the world around them. Swallowing tightly past the sudden lump in his throat, he lowered the arm that had been at his neck, moving to rest his hand lightly against her hip. Whether that was to hold her in place, pull her closer or to push her away, he was not quite certain. "I … um …." She did not tease. She did not taunt. "Leliana …."

He turned slightly then, his one arm still around her waist, the other reaching towards his pack, thinking that now might be a good time to surprise her, but she halted his movements. "Alistair, no." Her words were soft, yet gentle at the same time, but very firm.

"But … there's something I want to give -"

"No." She remained insistent. Several moments of awkward silence passed, Alistair searching her face to try to find the answer to _why_ she would not let him take the pack in hand. "I know what you carry in there," she finally admitted, her tone still soft.

"You-you do?" He was stunned. He had thought he had been quite alone when he'd rescued the rose from Lothering. That it had survived at all still remained a mystery to him. And then when he'd wrapped it up and put it in his pack that night … she had been on watch then, hadn't she?

Leliana lifted her hands then, framing his face, silently asking him to look at her. As he did, he heard her murmur, "Alistair, you do realize that you will likely end up as king, do you not?"

Alistair sighed heavily. Though it had not been discussed much, and certainly not with anyone other than Bryallyn, Alistair was not surprised that Leliana knew about his parentage, or at least that he was in line for the throne. "I know that," he returned quietly, though the thought made his stomach churn with nerves.

Her hands still cradling his face, she continued, "Then anything between us would be ill advised, would it not? We would have no future together."

A reluctant sigh. A king taking up with an Orlesian bard? "You're probably right," he agreed. "It's just that …." He reached for the pack again, but she would not let him take it in hand.

"Save it, Alistair. For your future queen," she told him sincerely. "Trust me, it will be important to her."

Alistair frowned then, lifting his hands to encircle her wrists. "And what if I want -"

Leaning forward, Leliana kissed him lightly on his lips, a move that only a short while before might have had him skittering away from her like a frightened puppy. "Alistair, I know you, your type. You are not one to simply sleep with whomever tickles your fancy and then move on. You are a man of strong beliefs and feelings. It would be heartless of me to lead you on into a situation that I knew would never become permanent. _You know we cannot be_. Like the Blight, our time together will come to an end."

He felt a sharp pain in his chest then that replaced the earlier flutters and nerves. And though he knew her words to be true, he still did not want to admit that she was right. He loosed his grasp upon her wrists, his hands falling to his sides in defeat. She had turned him down … as he had known she would, but somehow it seemed to hurt worse with the foreknowledge.

And then she she moved quickly and caught his hands before they landed. The movement had him looking at her in question, hope beginning to build once more.

"But, until then …."

His eyes met hers and saw the sparkle of playful mischief there. A slight twitch at the corner of her lips also teased. "Leli …?"

Her arms shifted, wrapping up and around his shoulders, hands teasing the hair just above his neckline. "If you can promise to abide by this this later on," she murmured, her voice sounding an awful lot like a cat's purr near his ear, "to walk away without question or disagreement when the time comes, perhaps _these_ are the lessons on which we should be concentrating, hmm?"

Alistair found himself speechless just then … and when one of Leliana's hands trailed down his arm to take his hand in hers, tugging just enough to get him to follow after her, he felt a smile turn at his lips and he followed.

* * *

It was sometime much later that afternoon Leliana and Alistair returned to their original purpose in the clearing. This time, however, the bard gave up the recitation of poetry in favor of her first love, music. Grabbing her lute, she climbed onto the boulder and settled there, strumming simple chords as she tuned the instrument. Once satisfied, and with just a little bit of added flair, she began playing a procession of chords. At first, they did not seem to have a particular melodic pattern, but she knew better than most how to play a deception. She began humming softly along with the chords, a light and easy melody meant to relax and entertain.

Periodically, Leliana would sneak a glance out of the corner of her eye over at Alistair, a small and somewhat secret smile playing across her lips. She had to admit, if only to herself (though she might give in for a 'girl talk' session if Bry were insistent upon it) that she had enjoyed her time with Ferelden's future king. He had been hesitant, nervous, and not a little bit awkward at first. But he had been a quick learner, and it had not taken him long to learn just enough that he too was enjoying himself and then some.

Right now, however, he was back to his old ways whenever their gazes met. It seemed that perhaps she still had some lessons to impart. Hmm, she would have to do something about that. "Alistair, it's a little chilly here, don't you think? Would you be a dear and start up a small fire?"

He seemed almost shocked at first and it was all Leliana could do to not begin laughing at his reaction. However, the gentleman that he inherently was beneath all of his Templar and Warden training did shine through and while he began gathering the wood they would need, even flexing some of his impressive muscular strength in the process (to Leliana's everlasting delight), the bard turned her attentions back to her music.

A short time later, Alistair moved to lean against the boulder near her, his elbow resting on the flat surface as he leaned in a bit to watch her. "Better?"

Leliana flashed him a warm smile. "Indeed," she replied softly. She knew she was leading him in, just waiting for him to relax enough, to take the bait so to speak. It was all a part of who she was, acting like this. The trick, she thought, would be to see if he figured it out for himself. Most of the times that Alistair ended up in an embarrassing situation (to his own point of view) she knew had more to do with his inexperience and walking right in where others had led him. She had been trying for weeks now to get him to realize this.

He took a chance then, she noticed with a bit of satisfaction warming in the pit of her stomach, and he reached out to run his hand lightly along her lower leg. The sensations were rather pleasant, she thought, and she also realized that this would be the perfect time put him to the test … when his focus was elsewhere and he was least expecting it. That in mind, a smile still playing at her lips just for him, she altered the chords and her tune just a bit and moved into the flow of the song.

_If all the young laddies were little white flowers,_

_I'd be a bee a suck them for hours _…

_Go roll your leg over, roll your leg over_

_Roll your leg over the man in the moon._

Leliana had to giggle softly at the stunned look of surprise that crossed Alistair's face just then. His eyes shot up to meet hers, his breath caught, and he almost gurgled as he tried to find his voice to protest. And was that the barest hint of a flush creeping up his neck just then? Oh, she would _definitely_ need to have a chat with Bryallyn about this if only for the amusement of it all!

_If all the young laddies were ships on the sea,_

_I'd be the waves and I'd let them ride me_

_Go roll your leg over, roll your leg over_

_Roll your leg over the man in the moon_.

_If all the young laddies were boards on the floor_

_I'd lay meself down and make them creak more_

_Go roll your leg over, roll your leg over_

_Roll your leg over the man in the moon._

_If all the young laddies were hounds on a spree_

_I'd be the fox and I'd let them chase me_

_Go roll your leg over, roll your leg over_

_Roll your leg over the man in the moon. _

_If all the young laddies were bricks in a pile,_

_I'd be the mason and lay them with style_

_Go roll your leg over, roll your leg over_

_Roll your leg over the man in the moon._

_If all the young laddies were bakers of pie_

_I'd be the bread yeast and make them all rise_

_Go roll your leg over, roll your leg over_

_Roll your leg over the man in the moon. _

_If all the young laddies were big as they say_

_Then nary a lass would be walkin' this day!_

_Go roll your leg over, roll your leg over_

_Roll your leg over the man in the moon. _

But by the end of several verses, Leliana found it becoming increasingly difficult to keep her attention to what she was doing. And Alistair? The man was just standing there, watching her closely, his arms crossed and …. Startled, she tried to stammer out his name in protest. _She_ was supposed to be testing _him_, to make certain that the skills she had been teaching him to keep him from reacting to suggestive comments were actually sinking in, and yet ….

She looked up at him as he stood there, one of his lopsided grins tilting at his lips. _Those lips …_. Leliana found it difficult to swallow past the lump in her throat just then. _What is he doing to me?_ He leaned closer then, nuzzling the hair near her cheek just a bit with his nose before whispering, "So … do I pass yet?"

Leliana pulled back as suddenly as if Morrigan had zapped her with a bolt of lightning. "What? When? How?" she stumbled. When he began chuckling, she became even more confused for a very long moment … and then he reached a hand out to her. Reacting on instinct, she placed her hand in his and he pulled her to stand before him before taking the lute from her and setting it upon the boulder.

"A little distracted, are we?" he mused.

And then it hit her. "You … you …!"

He laughed a bit more loudly this time. When she began smacking his arm in her frustration, he hunched in a bit as if to protect himself. "What? Isn't this what you _wanted_ me to do?"

"Well, yes," she returned in aggravated protest, "but … how long have you -"

Alistair lifted a finger and placed it on her lips then and Leliana shut her mouth. "Why don't we just say that I was recently inspired and leave it at that? Hmm?" he offered.

Blinking and realizing that Leliana could hardly protest that, she simply nodded. He leaned in to kiss her thoroughly on her lips for a moment then before pulling back. "Now then, shall we return to camp before they begin to wonder what exactly it is we have been up to?" he asked.

Leliana sighed and reached for her lute. "Wanting to show off now, are we?" she teased lightly as they walked along. She heard him chuckling as he walked beside her.

"Perhaps … a bit," he returned. "On the other hand, I was thinking that after supper we might simply, ahem … work on some more of those lessons?"

Laughing aloud, Leliana looped her arm through his as they walked along. "We might at that," she agreed.


	64. Trial by Faith

_This chapter more or less follows events through Haven as they occurred in-game, with a few differences sparked mostly from my fanfic involving Bryce and Eleanor and Bryallyn's recollections of the stories they told her about it over the years. Most of the chapter is from Bryallyn's pov, her take on much of what is going on around her, etc.; except for one section that I that I thought might be interesting to get the takes of the others on how Bryallyn is dealing with the experience. It might seem a bit slow, but I think it's important to Bry's character development, as well as the other companions, and so I decided to keep this chapter in. There are also a few added bits that will affect events in upcoming chapters as well._

_Thanks to all who continue to read, review and lurk, as well as set alerts and favs including: ProsePrincess, naomis8329, Preludetoanightmare and one Guest. Thank you all!_

_Thanks to my awesome betas! This time around **Erynnar, MireliAmbar** and **Liso66.**_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N: **Musical Inspiration: "Set Fire to the Rain," by Adele; "Eye in the Sky," by Alan Parsons Project; "Tragedy," by the BeeGees; "(Don't Fear) the Reaper," by Blue Oyster Cult; and "The Keeper of the Flame," by Martin Page._

* * *

Bryallyn had not been surprised upon their arrival at Haven to find that they were being turned away. However, with a few carefully worded responses to the man's demands that they leave, they were finally allowed admittance and directed to the shop where they could trade.

Barely had they entered the village proper, however, than Bryallyn found herself face to face with dissention from within her own ranks. Sten had stepped before her, daring to challenge her in front of the others. Sadly, though Bryallyn wished she could say she found this as a surprise, she could not. The stoic warrior had been growing even less talkative than usual, his manner more surly, bordering even on disrespectful. That he would seek to challenge her was not surprising in the least. When she gave it further thought, the fact that he would do it in front of the others was not that startling either. Though she knew very little of the Qunari, from the bit she did understand, Bryallyn understood them to be a people with a definitive view of proper place in society and a certain order to things. The fact that she was a woman and in the position of leader she knew gave Sten fits.

When the challenge came, Bryallyn was ready for it. Though Alistair and Leliana both stepped forward immediately, Bry stopped them, her hands moving out to block their challenge to Sten. When Constant began growling in a manner that Bryallyn recognized as his "I will attack you if you take one step further," warning, she silenced him as well. Even Wynne started to speak up and Bryallyn had to warn her off as well. Cautiously, Bryallyn allowed Sten to air his grievances. Each time he posed a question, she answered it. Every time he baited her, trying to get her to react in a manner she knew to be aggressive, she faced him calmly and refuted his claims with words rather than blades or bows. In truth, she knew full well that she would not be able to stand up to a physical challenge to him not only because of her pregnancy, but also because her blade skills were not nearly at his level. That realization had come some months before, and was something that still gave her a twinge or two when she thought of it. Nathaniel had insisted she learn to wield dual blades to protect herself, had even offered to teach her all he knew … and they had never had the chance.

In the end, the Qunari held his blade and fell back into line, never knowing the internal struggle that Bryallyn had faced in the process. Thanks largely in part to her bard lessons from Leliana, Bry had been able to keep her emotions masked from him and the others at the time. Like most of the situations she found herself in since the night Highever had fallen, Bryallyn tended to compartmentalize: push her feelings to the side to deal with later while actively seeking something else to do to keep her mind occupied away from them. In this instance, she began leading her companions through the village of Haven.

And Maker, was there ever enough distraction to keep her occupied … and provide her with a new set of worries. As they moved through the village, Bryallyn was ever mindful of the stories told her regarding the cold reception her parents had received so many years before. Yet, whether due to Leliana's teachings or simply Bryallyn's own suspecting nature now enhanced since the betrayal of Rendon Howe, Bryallyn found that she could not help but sense that whatever was happening here had something sinister at its base. Even Morrigan's observations seemed to back this up, and it was rare that Bry and the mage agreed on anything.

As they prepared to enter the chantry, so clearly the heart of the village given its prominence at the top of the hill, Bryallyn felt a hand at her shoulder. Glancing over, she found both Alistair and Leliana giving her a look of concern. "What is it?" Bry asked.

A look passed between the would-be-king and the bard. "Alistair and I were thinking," Leliana began quietly, "that perhaps you ought to let him lead the way in here."

Bryallyn shifted her glance to Alistair as he added, "Bry, neither of us doubts your abilities," he assured her quickly and Bryallyn nodded to let him know she had not been thinking that at all, "but we also know that, given what we've discovered so far, this _could_ be a dangerous place."

"What they are trying to be so delicate in saying, my dear Warden," Zevran's accented voice piped up from her other side as he too stepped forward, "is that they want you and your child to remain safe. Surely it has occurred to you that the farther along you are in your current … condition, the more danger you are likely to be in, no?"

Bryallyn was brought up a bit short by the elf's words. Certainly she had realized that a time would come when the risk of doing her child some sort of harm would outweigh the need for her to lead in battle, but she wasn't even halfway through her pregnancy yet. "I …."

Leliana took her hand then and squeezed gently. "How about a test run for our 'new and improved' Alistair, hmm?" she suggested with a touch of a smile and Bryallyn found that she could not deny either Alistair or Leliana that. She and Leliana had chatted a few times recently and when the bard was not busy blushing, she had been extolling the personality changes that had taken over the other Warden. It was time for him to try.

Bryallyn finally gave in, noting as she did so that the look that crossed Alistair's features seemed to be almost a combination of excitement and fear. Their eyes met and held for a moment, and Bryallyn gave him a smile of reassurance and a small nod of agreement that he was ready, that she trusted him, and that she was willing to hand over the leadership role on this particular mission. "Lead on," she told him simply. And he did.

In the long run, Bryallyn decided it was probably better that Alistair led inside the Chantry than she. The man leading the 'services,' if they could be referred to as such a thing, turned out to be the Revered Father that her parents had mentioned to her and which, deep inside her, rankled just a bit too much that a man whose intent seemed to stem from so evil a purpose (and still as of yet undefined) could live longer than her parents. Bryallyn remained in the rear of the group with Wynne and Morrigan as she often did, the distance necessary for use of her weapon. This also gave her the opportunity to watch Alistair in action. And despite the personal issues she was suffering through, the sight of her friend and fellow Warden coming into his own, even on a small level such as this, was quite the sight. She could see little signs of the ruler he could become as he handled the situation the Revered Father. At least there was something hopeful that could be brought out of this bizarre situation.

The Revered Father not having changed much from the time when her parents had visited, it seemed, chose battle rather than cooperation. When the dust of battle cleared, Bryallyn and her party were all that remained. Bryallyn made sure she found a moment to let Alistair know how well he had done. The moment was cut short, however, with Zevran approaching once more. "Wardens, I believe I may have found a secret passage."

And so he had. On the other side of the wall in the hidden room, the party finally came across the elusive Brother Genitivi. After some discussion in which the good, but stubborn Brother refused to seek out additional medical assistance back in Denerim, even at Wynne's insistence, he agreed to remain behind the group if they would at least let him show them where the temple that housed the Urn of Sacred Ashes was located. No manner of suggestion otherwise would work with him, and so Bryallyn and Alistair finally agreed to allow him to accompany them as far as the entrance to the temple. Once he showed them how Father Eirik's medallion opened the door, he agreed to remain behind to study the ruins located there, finally admitting openly that if he went with them he would only slow them down.

As they ventured forth through the temple, Bryallyn became more and more concerned regarding the fanaticism they were facing. She spent much time speaking with Leliana on this too, regarding the bard's time spent in the Chantry as a good counterpoint to what was quite clearly turning into a counter-branch of the faith. Though not as devout and Andrastrian as she supposed she ought to be, Bryallyn did believe to a point, and she was finding the extremist nature of these people to be quite disturbing. That fact plus the enclosed nature of the 'temple' was truly wearing on her, and by the time they had fought their way to the exit, Bryallyn was near complete exhaustion. When faced yet again with a group of cultists, this time led by another man claiming to be priest, Bryallyn nearly ended up in tears.

Realizing that it was more than just the nature of their quest that was affecting Bryallyn, Wynne pulled Bryallyn aside as they entered the large chamber. "Child," she murmured calmly and in what she hoped was a soothing manner, "I suspect this is another of those moments you should allow both Alistair and Leliana to approach. Both are versed well enough in the Chantry's teachings they should not be swayed by anything these people have to say."

Bryallyn's eyes glanced up as another presence joined them. Meeting Alistair's concerned look, she nodded. "Will you?" she asked quietly.

Alistair smiled and patted her shoulder gently. "You know I will," he said quietly before turning to gather Leliana, Zevran, Sten and Morrigan to his side. Constant remained beside his mistress and Wynne.

The talk began well, and due to the large cavernous surroundings, Bryallyn and Wynne were able to hear the conversation clearly as it echoed around them. A time or two, Bryallyn did find herself wincing at Alistair's responses, though with the battle that ultimately followed, she knew there was little other predictable outcome. Thankfully, the battle was not lengthy and most injuries received were minor. Except for Sten. The Qunari had taken a direct hit to his main arm from a mage's spell and after the battle was ended, both Bryallyn and Wynne who had seen him take the hit, hurried over. The man began cursing up a storm in what Bryallyn assumed was Qunari (she certainly didn't recognize the language) as Wynne began treatment. But the wound proved to be stubborn. Morrigan soon joined them and was adding her two coppers worth, until finally she told them, "Go. I believe I know what spell caused this. 'Tis one of older magic, one that mother knew how to mend."

Bryallyn blinked. Older magic. One Flemeth knew. Bryallyn wondered if that meant it was something out of the grimoire she had given to Morrigan after the trip to the Circle Tower, but she did not wish to speak of the tome in front of Wynne who would, no doubt, be upset by the fact that Bryallyn had taken it. Instead, Bryallyn handed Morrigan two health potions, a couple of empty flasks and some lyrium dust she had been carrying. "We will pick you up on the return," she promised.

The two women exchanged a look, and Bryallyn was almost startled by the smile that Morrigan offered her then. "We shall be ready to travel then," she promised and then by way of dismissing Bryallyn, the witch turned her attention to her patient.

It had become clear during the confrontation with Kolgrim that the group inhabiting Haven believed that Andraste had been reborn as a dragon, but until Bryallyn and the others actually stepped outside of the temple and came nearly face to face with the high dragon that appeared to call the place home, they had not quite understood. Some quick thinking on Alistair's and Zevran's parts had kept the women (and themselves) safe as the creature soared overhead, it's roar reverberating across the mountains surrounding them, the ground quaking beneath their feet. Bryallyn shuddered at the sound, her hands moving to cover her child as if the action might actually protect it. Alistair had pulled her and Leliana aside while Zevran assisted Wynne, halting their momentum forward to keep them out of line of sight of the beast. Once the dragon settled upon a rise across the open space before them, appearing to settle down for a rest, Bryallyn peeked around Alistair's shoulder so that she could get a better look at the thing.

"I would humbly suggest," Zevran offered quietly, his own voice not un-affected by the animal's presence, "that we find a way _around_ the dragon. I do not know about you, but I have no wish to be on her menu for this evening."

The others murmured their quick agreement and it was decided to keep to the sides of the hills as much as possible, thus keeping them out of direct line of sight of the dragon. Though this took longer than they would have liked, their caution was rewarded when they arrived at the entrance to the rest of the temple on the other side. Quickly, quietly, they moved inside of the building, closing the door firmly behind them.

Bryallyn was the first to sigh in relief, sagging against the nearby wall. "Maker's breath," she murmured, more shudders passing through her. A hand at her shoulder caught her attention and she glanced up to find Alistair, his concern for her obvious. "I'm fine," she told him. "Just …."

Alistair gave her a quick hug, brotherly hug. "Yeah, I know what you mean," he responded quietly. "Creepy."

Bryallyn managed a small chuckle then as she straightened. "Definitely creepy," she agreed. Glancing at the others, she asked, "Shall we move forward?"

With everyone in accordance, they entered what appeared to be an antechamber of some sort. But the room looked different than the rest, whether due to the architecture itself or the fact that it did not appear to be as aged by time as the rest of the temple had been was not certain. Bryallyn felt a nudge against her hip a moment later and glanced down at Constant, ever beside her, who appeared to be upset about something if his soft whine was any indication. She was about to ask the hound what the trouble was when a strange man in armor stepped forward seemingly out of nowhere. Before she could say a word to the contrary, Alistair and Zevran had their blades pulled and were beside her, Leliana her bow drawn and aimed; and Wynne, Maker bless her, stood behind Bryallyn, fingers crackling with energy should a spell be needed.

Taking a quick moment to gesture her companions to back off, Bryallyn then stepped forward and began conversing with the spectral image. He most definitely was not a human. Or, rather, she corrected herself, he was not a live human. They spoke for a time regarding the group's purpose, the Guardian's purpose, and what lay behind the doors he was now blocking them from entering. Once satisfied that any and all questions she had were thoroughly answered, Bryallyn then agreed to submit herself to the gauntlet, as he called it.

The gauntlet had four sections, he'd warned. Four tests of trust and faith that would verify she and her companions were worthy to approach the Ashes. With that in mind, Bryallyn led the way. The first test proved to be one of riddles and knowledge, wordplay and faith. However, through a bit of teamwork and group discussion, they managed to make it through without any untoward incident. Bryallyn actually found it to be an interesting experience, not so much because they had had to rely upon working together as a group, but more for the information that had come out of it. Where Bryallyn had figured that the questions regarding Andraste might be Leliana's area of expertise after her time in the Chantry, it had been Alistair's templar training that had provided much of the content of the answers. The riddles and wordplay had actually required more assistance from Leliana and Zevran in the end. All in all, Bryalllyn found herself pleased with the final results of this experience.

* * *

Rather pleased with himself for his contributions, Alistair was just leaning down to murmur an observation quietly to Leliana when he felt her arm shoot up, effectively causing him to come to a sudden halt. Frowning, he took a breath to ask what was wrong when he finally noticed that Bryallyn was some distance ahead of them, she too at a standstill. And she was speaking with someone. "Who -?"

Wynne's quiet tone broke in then. "That would be Teryn Bryce Cousland, Alistair. Bryallyn's father."

Alistair blinked back his confusion. "But … how?"

"It is one of the tests," Leliana's voice chimed in. "And one meant only for her."

Zevran scoffed lightly at the sight. "This is the best that the Guardian can do?" he asked.

Leliana frowned. "Hush, Zevran," she chided gently. "It is a test of faith. Of whether Bryallyn can move on from the past to pursue her future."

Bryallyn's voice echoed softly around them then, and in it they could hear her personal pain. "I wish it were not so, but I know you are dead, Father."

Bryce Cousland began speaking again, so quietly that none of the rest could hear him.

"She is so strong," Leliana mused from her position. "I know this must hurt her dreadfully, and yet she faces it head on."

Wynne chuckled softly. "She is a teyrn's daughter, Leliana," the mage reminded her. "Because we have known her as 'the Warden' for so long, we forget that she how she was raised."

Bryallyn's sobs reverberated towards them. "She isn't sounding so strong at the moment," Alistair observed with concern, attempting to step towards her.

Wynne reached out this time to stop him. "She needs to do this herself, Alistair."

Alistair felt an arm slide around his and glanced down at Leliana. "Wynne is right," she said. "We will have to wait to help her later. Knowing that we're there for her might do her better anyway."

Alistair sighed, but what choice did they have really?

"Our bard is correct, my friend," Zevran added. "So tonight we can distract our lady Warden -"

"Minus the alcohol, Zevran," Wynne ordered sternly.

Zevran sighed dramatically, but continued, "Yes, yes, my dear magically bosomed friend. Our blooming Bryallyn shall not be allowed to imbibe …." As he rambled on, Wynne snorting her protest at his 'magically bosomed friend' comment, Alistair kept his eyes upon his fellow Warden. She was reaching out, taking something in her hand from the spirit of her father, though how exactly that worked, Alistair could not even begin to imagine.

A moment later, Bryallyn was turning away from the spirit and her eyes lifted to meet Alistair's. They held for a moment and in that time, Alistair thought he could see so much. He recognized that look, too, and knew that if it had been him leading this, he would have been meeting with Duncan and the grief of his passing. "It's time to go," Alistair announced to the others then, stepping forward towards Bryallyn. Whatever came next, he would not let her go through it alone again, just as she had not let him do the same after Ostagar.

* * *

That evening, as the group made camp down in the now empty village of Haven, for the first time in a long while sleeping upon beds instead of the ground, Bryallyn found herself thinking back to the events of that afternoon. The remainder of the Gauntlet had been easy in comparison to the meeting with her father, Bryallyn thought. The Teyrn had not judged her in any way, simply advising her that it was time to let go of what had happened and move on. And though deep down inside Bry knew that he was right, she found herself fighting the loss of that connection with him.

But with every passing day, something happened to take her further away from that, and as much as Bryallyn wanted to deny it, she knew it was time to let go. As Leliana and Zevran made dinner that night (Bryallyn made a mental note to refrain from the elf's spicy rice. The last time she'd eaten it, she'd had heartburn all night long), Bryallyn slipped away and wandered down to the boat dock near the lake. It was a pretty place despite its association with the events that had transpired in this village over the years, and a place where she felt she could say her goodbyes in private.

A little while later as she sat upon the edge of the dock, Bryallyn was reflecting on some of the information she had received from her father's spirit that day when she sensed another's approach. A smile playing at her lips, she called out, "It's okay, Alistair. You don't have to stand back there in the dark."

Chuckling, he descended to the dock. "Leli asked me to fetch you for supper," he explained while extending a hand to assist her to her feet. Bryallyn took it, thankful for the help. "Are you alright?"

Bryallyn nodded though the sadness was still present in her eyes. "I will be," she told him. "Today just brought back some things I'd thought I'd already dealt with."

Alistair nodded his understanding. As she took his arm and they began walking back towards the camp, he asked, "So … what now? Do we head to Redcliffe to deliver the Ashes? Do we wait and go on to see the dwarves next? Find the Dalish? Forcibly escort Brother Genitivi home to Denerim? What's the plan?"

Bryallyn was silent for a moment as she considered their options. "As much as I hate to say it, I don't see that returning to Redcliffe does us much good, at the moment." She felt his step hesitate beside her and she suspected she knew his thoughts. Despite their past history together, it was clear that Alistair did care for the Arl. Glancing up at her friend, Bry smiled. "That does not mean we do not send the Ashes to him soon as possible."

Alistair blinked in confusion and Bryallyn almost laughed. "I am thinking to send Leliana down there while we start heading east to find the Dalish by way of Denerim."

"Denerim? So you intend to insist upon the good brother returning home?"

Bryallyn did chuckle this time. "Not at all. Genitivi is an adult, able to make his own decisions. Far be it from me to remove him from what he believes to be his calling. No, I have an altogether different plan for this stop in Denerim. Remember those drake scales we picked up in there?" She gestured towards the mountaintop that housed the temple. He nodded and she continued, "Well, I would think your Master Wade might be able to make some decent armor for someone out of it, don't you?" Despite the previous trip to the capital city, Bryallyn knew that both Zevran and Leliana still needed better armor than what they already had, and their adventures in Haven had not helped matters any in that regard. Leliana desperately needed new gloves and boots, and Zevran … well, as his Crow armor had been nearly destroyed during his ambush attempt upon Bryallyn, the pieces he currently wore consisted of a mixed assortment of pieces. Though the elf had not complained once that Bry knew of, she understood that he needed something that offered more protection.

"He might just at that," Alistair agreed. "So … Leli goes to drop the Ashes off with Teagan and then … meets up with us on the road somewhere?"

Bryallyn nodded. "I'll speak with her in more detail about it, get a feel for just how fast she thinks she will be able to travel, but I'm thinking somewhere just east of Lake Calenhad, in the Bannorn."

Alistair nodded. They were just arriving back at the main camp, dinner being served out to the companions as they did, and Wynne was waving them both over. "Hurry or your Warden appetites will have nothing to eat!" she warned.

"Go on," she told Alistair, "and grab me a plate. I'm going to talk to Leliana right now. You can sit with us as we plan it out." And as he wandered off and she turned towards the bard, Bryallyn felt normalcy, if it could be referred to as such, returning. They would be leaving Haven in the morning and with that departure, Bryallyn suspected much of the pain from her personal past would be left behind with it. She had to look to the future, and right now that future involved her companions and finding a way to end the Blight, no matter what the cost. At least, that was the plan.


	65. Caught

_My apologies for the delay in posting the next installment! Aside from Real Life rearing its ugly head (school's back in session - yes, my kid started back AUGUST 3rd! Can you believe it?!), there's the fact that my muse decided I'd been overworking her (too much too fast, I guess?) and even though this was one of the 'fun' chapters, she wasn't having any of it! (There was also a heavy duty battle between her and my muse for my novel, but after a long and hard fought campaign, my muses have momentarily settled their differences!) But, she's back, and so are the troops and we can all now carry on!_

_In the meantime, I've been blessed with several new followers (welcome!) as well as those who continue to read, review, lurk and set favs and alerts including: csorciere, Juliafied, Casab1anca, Krystinna, James317, linda. .7, Liso66, Erynnar, mememoll, ProsePrincess, Dragonfire81 and naomi8329._

_Thanks as always to my fabulous betas without whom I'd be lost: **MireliAmbar, Erynnar** and **Liso66**. Ladies, you rock! :)_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N:** Musical inspiration - I will admit, the music did not help much this time around, but that said, I've still got a few pieces that are always good standbys …. Vivaldi's "Four Seasons" is always a winner, as are the "Brandenburg Concertos" by Johann Sebastian Bach. Another CD I'll listen to, though I don't have it with me at the moment and can't tell you it's proper name, is a CD of oboe concertos. I love mellow sounds and tones, especially oboe, cello and bassoon. _

* * *

Departing from the docks the next morning, Nathaniel and his companions prepared to make their way north towards the Imperial Highway. The plan was to turn west at the juncture and then to head towards Orzammar in the hopes that they would meet up with Bryallyn and her companions in the process. But as they gathered their belongings together, paid their bills and prepared to leave the small hamlet (was it even large enough to be called that?), one thing became quite clear: Something more was going on in the Bannorn than just the Blight, and it was something that could end up affecting not just them, but every person in Ferelden.

They were just departing the _Spoiled Princess_ when yet another group of refugees entered the area, seeking any sort of assistance they could possibly find. Though unable to offer assistance since they were departing, Nathaniel and the others did overhear some of the refugees talking of fighting, of bloodshed, of homes and fields and livestock destroyed. At first, Nathaniel assumed it was in reference to the encroaching darkspawn horde, believing these people to be from the south around Lothering. The darkspawn would be on the move northwards, though if they were this far already Nathaniel found himself wondering if the entire country would be overrun before anything could be done to halt them. But then, a passing comment caught his attention and had him thinking differently.

Nathaniel and Fergus were walking side by side, deep in discussion of some of the things they had spoken with Riordan the previous night. As they encountered the refugees, Nathaniel heard one woman complaining, _"It's worse than him being called up by Bann Loren. That case at least he knows where his duty lies even if he doesn't agree with it. But this? This is forced conscription!"_

Nathaniel blinked and glanced at Fergus. As for himself, Fergus' eyes closed for just a moment and shook his head slightly. "He and father never did see eye to eye," Fergus muttered. "Always struck me as an arrogant arse, but there you have it. Mother and Lady Landra were good friends, however."

"Weren't they still at the castle when I left?" Nathaniel asked, his thoughts drifting back to those last days in Highever before the world began to fall apart.

Fergus nodded. "Mother was going to travel back to their estate with them after Father left for the south." He sighed heavily, but made no further comment. What was the point? Dwelling on the fact that the majority of his family was gone did nothing to bring them back, no matter how he might wish it to be otherwise.

Another spoke up then before Nathaniel could say anything to his friend, a man who appeared to be of conscription age who was nodding at the woman's words. _"Regent's forcin' people to fight on 'is side in this thing. I'm not hangin' around to fight for the likes of 'im. Not when my lord's against 'im. 'E might be Regent, but 'e's not the one's got to work f'r my lord after!"_

A somewhat vocal 'discussion' began then regarding Ostagar, and the Regent's move to pull his troops from the battle … which inevitably led to raised voices regarding the death of the King. Nathaniel chanced a quick glance over at Fergus first before finding Trinion's gaze, but he didn't have to say a word to either of his companions. Each of them knew the import of the words being spoken here. Civil war was brewing in the Bannorn, and it would inevitably take a toll on the innocents as well as the nobles.

They would have to be very cautious in their travels from here out. No telling what might happen if they became embroiled in this particular battle. With press gangs out and about snatching up any and all able bodied persons for conscription, as well as more than just a few heavy suggestions of a contentious civil war, it would be imperative to keep their existence secret. Or as secret as possible. The temptation to use their small group, and Fergus in particular, as a rallying point for those who were outraged by what had happened at Highever - _if they even knew the truth of the matter_ - was great, but in the end Nathaniel and Fergus both knew it would be counterproductive at this point. They did not have the manpower to support that sort of move, even though it might give added heart and strength to those fighting against Loghain and Howe.

And so they would refrain from becoming involved in an outward manner … and do their level best to not fall into the hands of one of their opponents. That, on the other hand, would prove to be more difficult to determine since with their absence from active involvement in politics would make it a huge challenge to determine who was on whose side and therefore who their opponents were. Granted, there were several banns and arls on whom Nathaniel and Fergus knew they could place their trust without doubt, Bann Teagan and Arl Eamon being at the top of the list, but geography and fate being what it was, the chances of making it back to their lands was now low at best. After an in-depth group discussion that evening, Nathaniel and Fergus finally decided that the safest option would be to view anyone even who had been remotely associated to Rendon Howe or Loghain MacTir before this all started, including Banns Loren and Coerlic to name just a couple, as opponents and therefore against them.

"We'll need to be extra careful then, until we pass through Bann Loren's lands," Trinion advised. His eyes turned to give Fergus a hard look then. Despite the fact that he now sported visible scars, longer hair and a bit of facial hair, there was no doubt to the man's identity. He was very much his father's son. "Especially you, your grace."

Nathaniel nodded his agreement with that. When Fergus tossed him a dark look, Nathaniel simply shrugged. "Hey, I was gone for years. Most of those who know me are in the Free Marches." _ Or were_, he added silently, his thoughts touching on the memories of what they had found there.

Fergus' scowl darkened, though he knew Nathaniel was right on that account. "Well, it isn't like I can do anything else to disguise myself," he groused. "Except perhaps wearing leather armor." What an uncomfortable thought that was. Fergus was a warrior used to wearing heavy chainmail at the very least. The thought of forsaking that sort of protection simply in the name of a disguise made him nervous to the extreme.

"We'll just have to be careful," Nathaniel assured him. _And should the worst happen, we'll find some way to get out of it._ He would be damned if he was going to let his father, or worse, men like him, succeed with their plan. Not if there was anything he could do to prevent it.

* * *

But best laid plans often change, and sometimes without much warning.

"Has it occurred to you that it is inherently dangerous for the true Teyrn of Highever to be seen together with Arl Rendon Howe's renegade son?" a deep, rumbly voice hissed in concern.

"By whom?" came the nearly as quiet reply.

The sheer weight of the sigh of exasperation that passed his lips then nearly shook the trees and shrubs around them with its intensity. "By _any_one, you dolt!"

"Are you supposed to refer to the - what was it you called me? The 'true Teyrn of Highever'? - as a 'dolt'?"

"When he's acting like an arrogant, insufferable, stubborn ass who is also my wife's brother, then _yes! Some_one has to get through to you!"

Grayson glanced over at Durbin for a moment and the two men rolled their eyes at each other. Nothing unusual in this exchange. The tension between everyone, but especially these two men, had been increasing the longer the group remained in lands that were controlled by Bann Loren. For the most part, they took it out with words, most of which were never meant more than as a release of frustration, but as their small party was currently out hunting for the evening meal ….

"My lord …?"

Fergus sighed this time and Nathaniel grunted, both men returning to silence. As he turned his attention back to the trail before them, Grayson found himself wondering just how long this session might last.

Surprisingly, it turned out to be sometime later while they continued following the trail of a deer leading them a merry chase, that the concerns from several evenings previous were suddenly and quite forcefully put to the test. An unexpected and totally foreign voice shouted an alarm, alerting the four men to the fact that they had been spotted moving about in the woods. Yet, it wasn't the initial alarm that made them so wary as it was the echoing calls and the sound of booted and armored reinforcements approaching rapidly that caused the small hunting party to break into pairs to better try to blend into their surroundings and return to camp to warn the others.

Nathaniel took the lead early on and Fergus took no issue with this. Despite the fact neither knew the area at all, Fergus was aware of the specialities of Nathaniel's training and no matter how they might gripe or groan about it, particularly when times were a bit rough, he did trust his brother in law. Completely. At least, it was the only reason he could give for the fact that he was now ducking and dodging his way through a forest, attempting to avoid errant tree branches as much as the men who were after them.

Nathaniel nearly missed his footing as he came to a sudden halt through the brush and brambles. Fergus, behind him and not noticing right away, slammed into his friend and nearly sent the man over the edge of the hill. "Dammit," Fergus muttered, more frustrated that he'd not noticed Nathaniel coming to a halt than any other reason.

"Come on," Nathaniel grunted, carefully making his way over the drop-off and attempting to slow and silence his descent into the leaf and branch covered ravine below. They needed to keep to terrain that would allow nature to cover their tracks since they did not have the time to do so at the moment.

Fergus followed suit, utilizing whatever he could hold on to in his attempts to keep from allowing momentum to carry him down the decline at a faster pace than he wished. Bent and broken trees and limbs, a boulder wedged into the side of the ravine, even clusters of bramble and brush were used. All the while, however, he found himself quite envious of Nathaniel's natural ability to move in stealth and silence. Each snap of a twig or rustle of leaves had Fergus gritting his teeth, expecting to be found out at any moment.

But they made it down, surprisingly enough, and began moving at a quicker pace once more. Fergus followed Nathaniel, recognizing that his sister's husband was clearly a better tracker and scout than he would ever be and likely knew of places in such dense forested areas like this that would work in their favor. At least, he hoped Nathaniel did.

"Over this way," Nathaniel hissed, veering off suddenly to their left and leading the way through the trees. Somewhere ahead of them, Nathaniel could hear flowing water. River, stream or creek, he was not certain, but running water would give them a place to walk through for a distance that, though it would put them in more open view, it would help hide their scent from tracking animals. And if there was one thing Nathaniel had heard, it was the sound of dogs with the footsteps that had chased after them.

When they came upon the stream, Nathaniel grasped Fergus by his upper arm and pulled him in quickly, lifting a finger to his lips to remind his friend to remain as silent as possible as they headed downstream. It was tricky, to say the least. They had to move fast enough to stay ahead of those who were following them, and yet slow enough that they were not splashing water all over or loud enough to be heard. They managed to traverse the stream for a time, unending minutes or so Fergus thought, until Nathaniel found a densely covered area leading towards another hill, this time one for them to climb. Following closely behind, Fergus made his way out of the water …

Nathaniel was startled by the sound of a thud and immediate groan behind him, turning to find Fergus face down in the shrubbery and brush and other vegetation he'd decided to lead them through. His hope had been to disguise their departure from the water as much as possible … but seeing Fergus lying on the ground had Nathaniel realizing that the man's armor and clothing, soaked through by the water, had made the vegetation slippery. Too slippery. Kneeling down, Nathaniel hissed, "Are you alright?"

Fergus groaned again, softly to be sure, but he thought he could almost hear the sound echoing around them. Pushing himself up, he was about to respond when he felt the first telltale signs that something was very, very wrong. Breathing in sharply, his breath catching in a somewhat pain-filled gasp, it was all the noble could do not to lift his hands to his face. Glancing up quickly, he saw Nathaniel's look of concern evolve into one of horror, and between that and the prickly and awkward feeling now creeping across his face, Fergus came to a quick conclusion. "Rashvine," he gasped harshly, pushing himself to his knees before attempting to stand. "I'm _very_ allergic." He knew all too well that didn't even _begin_ to describe his reaction. Last time he'd been subjected, when he'd been about twelve, he'd swelled up horribly and been confined to bed for over a week. The only reason he hadn't had any major health issues with it at the time was because of the healing mage his parents had employed at the time. _Healing …_ Hoping for the best, Fergus reached for one of the health potions he carried on him and downed it as he stood up. All things being equal, this would hopefully keep the breathing issues that could result at bay.

Nathaniel could not help but stare at his friend in horror. For most people, rashvine was something to be avoided whenever possible, the rash that developed something on the upper end of agony. But there were very few he knew, that had even worse reactions. People for whom the reaction to the weed could be intensely dangerous, and possibly even deadly. People like Fergus it seemed. The would-be teyrn's face was rapidly swelling and now was taking on the shape of a misshapen mass of bulges and blisters in some of the most disconcerting shades of pink and red that Nathaniel had ever seen. Nathaniel didn't dare touch him either, though his instinct wanted to do so if only to get him moving again. However, he realized that the oils from the plant, the culprit for the rash and such, could well be on his armor and if he did touch him would transfer over.

"Fer -" he began, but was cut off a moment later when a shout from above them rang out and suddenly soldiers and mabari appeared from out of nowhere.

Three crossbowmen on the rise above them lowered their weapons to aim directly at the two men as a fourth snarled, "Well, you both led us a merry chase now, 'aven't you?"

Nathaniel's gaze lifted to meet Fergus' for a moment, but neither man spoke. They'd been caught. The only benefit to the situation that Nathaniel could see at that moment was that with the rash and blisters and swelling all over his face, no one would be able to tell who Fergus was.

"Let's get 'em back with the others, boys," the man ordered the rest of his companions. "We'll take 'em in and see w'at they got to tell us. Then we'll let 'is lordship decide w'at to do with 'em …."


	66. Peak of Perfection

_Please forgive the delay in this chapter. As I stated in the previous chapter, the muse has put the brakes on once again to slow me down. This is mostly to keep me from becoming burned out like I did last year about this time. I apologize again for the delay. _

_****Note … Two more things … since I started this chapter and my intro notes, Google Docs started to be very dodgy and would not open for me at home at all! However, seems as if it might be fixed now (I'm crossing my fingers, but not holding my breath) so all things being equal … I should be good to go now! Also, I was finally lured into playing the Mass Effect games over the Labor Day weekend, and find myself caught up in that story too! Have no fear - Dragon Age still holds my heart and I intend to finish this story and explore it further. However, if you are fans of ME, keep an eye out as I may be testing those waters soon with some fanfictiony attempts!_

_Thanks to those who have read, reviewed and lurked as well as added my stories to their favs and alerts including: meadowinfatuation, Pint-sized She-Bear, Juliafied, susyjohn, naomi8329, ProsePrincess, Pollyanna24, inkedhearts, tobadsosad, xsilmeriax, zatnikitak, melysande, mememoll, Kitten Again and Erynnar (disguised as 'guest')._

_Thanks as always to my wonderfully talented betas whose guidance keeps me honest here. __**Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**Liso66**__, I would be lost without you! :)_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N:**__ Musical Inspiration … Too much going on this time to even begin to recall what was used for inspiration. Hopefully I'll have something new for you next chapter._

* * *

The time it took for Bryallyn and her party to head north out of Haven and around the western coast of Lake Calenhad ended up being more than enough time for Leliana to make her journey. Bryallyn's increasing need for a slower pace of travel was beginning to affect the distance they could travel. That it was beginning to affect her role in the fighting was something that was not spoken of.

_Yet._

Had her condition not been an impediment, it would only have taken them a few weeks to arrive on the northern edge of the lake. With the seasons changing, precarious travel at best through a semi-mountainous area, and the ever present danger of darkspawn attacks that could not be avoided, it took Bryallyn's party nearly a month to reach the location. Agreement ahead of time had determined that Leliana would meet up with them in an area safe for encampment that Bryallyn knew from her years at her father's side, studying and learning all that she could for the time that the information would be necessary. Little had she realized it would be under such circumstances. The fact that it came without Highever troops or her father present Bryallyn tried to keep in the distant part of her mind, something to be dealt with later, when time permitted. Some things would take much longer to heal than just weeks or months.

The encampment itself was located a short ways east of the Lake Calenhad dock area at Kinloch Hold where they had encountered the ambush by members of Haven's dragon cult. It was near, but not over, the border with Bann Loren's lands, and a location that had a plentiful water source as well as being set back from the main roads enough so that detection by those who did not know of its presence would be virtually impossible. As Bryallyn led her companions into the area that afternoon, Constant actually scouting a short distance ahead of her, she curved around the bend leading towards the open area beside the watering hole … to find a small fire already aflame in the larger fire pit, a bedroll laying nearby, and travel kit and gear beside it. That Constant remained relatively calm and collected nearby reassured Bryallyn that the camp belonged to someone known to him.

"Leliana?" Bryallyn called out, turning from examining the camp to searching the tree-lined edges of the clearing beyond them and noting that Constant seemed to be nodding his head slightly at her use of the name. A soft rustling sound nearby had Bryallyn turning in that direction and, as Constant was still not alerting her to any danger, she did not reach for her bow. Eyes scanning around, Bryallyn focused on her search and not the sound of the other companions as they began to join her. Constant held no such compunction and trotted over to Alistair first and then Sten.

Bryallyn was about to turn back to assist, realizing that the need to establish their camp was first and foremost, when the slightest flicker off to her right caught her attention. Maintaining a neutral expression, Bryallyn whistled softly for Constant, kneeling beside him after he rejoined her and whispering in his ear, "Find Leli." Rising back up, a small stick now in hand, Bryallyn tossed it in the general direction she suspected the bard to be hiding and gave Constant the signal to fetch. The hand signal had a deeper meaning, however, when combined with her request, and this soon became apparent as the hound trotted after the stick before veering sharply off to the left and, with a sharp yip of surprise mixed with recognition, pounced in the area Bryallyn had identified. He'd not noticed her at first, as Bryallyn had thought might happen, but by leading him in with the stick, he'd picked up her scent …. Bryallyn heard a soft exclamation and she grinned.

"Ooof!"

Moving quickly, Bryallyn reached the pair and signaled Constant to release the bard, now lying flat on the ground. Reaching out, Bryallyn offered her hand which, thankfully, the bard accepted as she rose to her feet. "Need I remind you," Leliana teased with a mocking glare of indignation, "that mabari slobber stains leather horribly!"

Chuckling, Bryallyn simply held her grin in place. "So you have mentioned," the Warden returned before turning back towards the camp. As they approached the fire, Leliana's things now pulled closer to the tent she often used that one of the men had put up, she ventured quietly, "Was the trip a success?"

Leliana nodded immediately. "I was there to witness it for you," she added, the awe clear in her lilting tones. "Arl Eamon wished me to extend his eternal thanks for being so persistent in your search."

Bryallyn schooled her features to remain as neutral as possible and bit back any comment she might have made. Bryallyn was a nobleman's daughter and knew well all the players involved in the political schemes and machinations of Ferelden. She also was well aware of those who tended to take more upon themselves than they had rights to. Though she did not believe he quite fell into this second category, Bryallyn found that she did not trust the man for some reason. That, plus the fact that in her mind at least, the Lady Isolde _did_ fall into that category was more than enough for her to be wary of any intentions from that camp.

Teagan Guerrin, on the other hand, was not like his brother at all in that regard. Speaking of …. "And Teagan?" Bryallyn asked as she and Leliana took a seat near the fire, both women carefully feeding it and enlarging it so that they could prepare the evening meal.

Leliana gave Bryallyn a sly side-glance then. "Have you your eye upon the bann?" she teased lightly. Bryallyn scowled and Leliana giggled. "Bann Teagan asked me to convey his thanks to you as well, and to remind you of his reassurances that, should you wish it, his bannorn will be a safe haven for you when your time comes."

Bryallyn nodded and carefully added another log to the fire while keeping her eyes averted from the bard's. She had not shared that bit of information with any of her group just yet, though she had given it very careful consideration and had decided that they would head to Rainesfere when she neared time for the child to be born. In some ways the bann was just as open and friendly as his demeanor sometimes seemed. No strings. No demands for payment or recompense. Simply an offer of friendship and support and protection to one whom he considered friend. It was reassuring, to say the very least, especially in times when you knew not who was ally or friend.

* * *

Had she known what would come of her agreement, a few nights later when Levi Dryden stumbled upon them in camp, accidentally finding the very people he had been looking for all along, Bryallyn might not have agreed to go along with his request to go in search of Soldier's Peak. However, she hadn't known, and there was always the Grey Warden connection, both via his ancestor, Sophia Dryden, and the fact that he insisted that Duncan had promised to help. This last had come out of the blue as Bryallyn and Alistair both had spoken with the man in more detail, and though she felt a twinge of pain still at the loss of the man who had been for such a short time her Commander and her friend, a quick and worried glance over at Alistair reassured her that he at least was dealing with his grief better now. Their eyes had met for a moment, and though the smile he had given her was tinged with the same sense of loss, she could see that he had come to terms with it, or was at least able to put it in its proper place until he could find a better time in which to deal with it.

After a long night of discussion, hearing Levi's tales about the Peak, about the history (what he knew of it at least) of Sophia Dryden, and then an impromptu session of planning how to proceed from there, a plan was hatched by which the group would go in search of Soldier's Peak instead of heading on towards Denerim. Bryallyn and Alistair both studied the map that Levi showed them, and over their watch shift and through at least two pots of tea, they came up with something resembling a plan.

It took them almost two weeks to finally come upon the entrance to Soldier's Peak. Granted, the issue had not been so much the guesswork involved (they had known that going into this venture) but the weather on the way to the place. Though they were well north of the colder climes of the country, that did not mean that there was no chance for inclement weather along the way. Winter was nearing, and there had been many a cold season in the past when Highever, one of the furthest points north in the country even, had suffered through winter storms and blizzards and the like. Thankfully, the weather was not quite that bad yet, though if some of the comments from her traveling companions were an indication, the sleety half snow-half rain was worse. But finally, they managed to locate the entrance beneath the proper mountain range and moved 'indoors' so to speak.

However, once out of the elements, they still had to determine what path to take. Bryallyn had heard much about the caves in this range, old mining tunnels whose secrets were held close by the villages and populations thereof. Though they mis-stepped a few times (after all, maps pieced together over time and various sources were bound to have errors in them), they did find their way through.

What they found, though, was something that Bryallyn hoped to never see again in her lifetime. While certainly not one of the more frightening images she had come across during recent months (the Darkspawn were the winners there, hands down), the hoary visions left behind like an echo of the past giving them insight as to what actually had happened with Sophia Dryden and the Wardens … and then to find that Sophia Dryden had been possessed by a demon. But even that was an over statement as there was virtually nothing left of Levi's distant grandmother. After time spent listening to 'Sophia,' questioning her, Bryallyn found herself in a situation in which the skills that Leliana had been teaching her for the past weeks and months came into play. In this case, trickery and deceit became useful tactics and ultimately the play of an ancient blood mage against a demon possessed Warden Commander was satisfactorily resolved. The Veil now healed, the portal for demons and other evil minions now closed off, Soldier's Peak began to settle.

Much work was needed to return the keep to a livable state, but Bryallyn and her companions remained to help get things well under way, and within a short time, numerous members of Levi's family - brothers, in-laws, children of all sorts, cousins - began to arrive. And with them came more help with the keep, with mending weapons and armor, there seemed to be no area in which some member of the Dryden family did not excel. Gratitude notwithstanding, Bryallyn was able to outfit both Leliana and Zevran with sets of armor in exchange for very reasonable prices.

And then, finally, Bryallyn managed to find a moment's peace and quiet. No talking ghosts. No undead or demons or possessed Wardens attacking. No abominations just waiting to pounce upon unsuspecting adventurers. Just the wind whipping around the outer edges of the keep tinged with the sharp bite of snow, winter now hitting in full force on the Peak.

Bryallyn made her way to the bridge between the keep and Avernus' workspace in his tower. The aged Warden had agreed to remain there, out of way of the Dryden clan, and to continue his research (within reasonable means, much to his disgust). Closed away from the rest of the world as such, Bryallyn knew she did not need to worry about him interrupting her moment. The Drydens were, as always, busy. Bryallyn found it amusing to watch them at times, though each had different chores and responsibilities in different fields, even the children, she had to admit that they were very enthusiastic about life in general. Levi's reaction to Bryallyn's agreement to allow them use of the keep in return for establishing a somewhat privatized Warden trading center should have alerted her to that. In many ways, Bryallyn found herself reminded of Castle Cousland and Highever.

That thought taking hold, Bryallyn wandered about halfway across the bridge, stepping closer to the wall. Staring off into the distance, her eyes drifting north and west, Bryallyn's hands came to settle atop her ever growing belly. Her eyes focused towards Highever, her thoughts drifted to the faces and memories of those she had known and loved. Family. Friends. Servants, merchants or any other level of the social ladder, it didn't matter. She had known many, both at the castle and in the town, and at the moment, she could not help but dwell on the losses and how her child would not have the opportunity to know those who had influenced her in her youth.

* * *

He was aiding Sten and Mikhael Dryden with adjustments to Mikhael's smithy area when Alistair realized that he had not seen Bryallyn for quite some time. A quick glance around the courtyard confirmed that she was not present there. A short time later, a scouring of the keep and a quick discussion with Leliana and Wynne informed him of the same within the building. Frowning, Alistair made his way into the kitchens where he was plied with several freshly made honey buns by Levi's wife (she had learned very quickly how to meet the needs of both Wardens' ravenous appetites). Waving his thanks, he departed soon thereafter and turned towards the only other place he could think to find her: the bridge.

He was not surprised to find her there, he realized as he stepped out onto the bridge, but he did feel concern. Oh, she was dressed warmly enough, a heavy cloak hanging about her shoulders even, and yet he could tell there was something wrong. When he observed her far away look and her hands rubbing lightly over her abdomen, he could not help but wonder if she was ailing. Perhaps he ought to summon Wynne?

Instead, he slowly approached her, though he coughed loudly to be certain she was aware of his presence. She did turn slightly as he neared, just a bit of a glance to verify that it was him, and it was then that he noticed the sadness in her eyes, the silvery tracks of tears that had rolled down her cheeks, and he felt his concern triple. "Bry? Are you alright?" he asked cautiously. She did not seem to be hunched over or anything, so hopefully that meant it would not be due to physical pain. But if not that, what …?

He watched her nod at him in affirmation, though he saw fresh tears breaking free. His concern increasing, he reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder as he stepped beside her. "What's wrong?" His voice held concern, but there was a gentleness there too. He hoped that she couldn't sense the rising panic, though. If something was wrong, if she could not continue to lead them, then it would fall to him, and though he'd done this on more than one occasion during their journey, it was not anywhere near that sort of level of ….

"I'm fine," she told him and Alistair glanced down at her to search her eyes. It was something he'd been trying lately with Leliana, though he knew he wasn't having much luck there. The bard's training was just too good. But, though she too was learning the same bard skills, Bryallyn either could not or would not mask her feelings quite as well as their Orlesian friend. So he looked, the brow above one of his eyes popping up a bit higher than the other in a look that told her he didn't believe her.

At first, it seemed as if things were fine. Alistair observed a slight twitch of amusement at the corner of Bryallyn's lips, heard a soft almost snort as she tried to hold it in … and then her eyes filled with tears again and she ducked her head away and Alistair inwardly cringed. _What did I do wrong?_ he wondered silently while trying to find a way to determine the cause of her current state. "Bry -"

"No," she rasped out pleadingly. "Just … let me be … for a moment."

Sighing in resignation, Alistair released his hold on her and took a step back. However, her arm shot out and grasped his arm before he had managed to complete the motion. "Stay …?"

Another sigh. Maker's breath, he was so confused!

* * *

Bryallyn nearly panicked when Alistair took a stepped back from her and seemed to be preparing to leave. Her arm shooting out, she asked him to stay, though she still would not look at him just yet. She knew her words were contradictory, but then, so was her current emotional state. How was she to explain it all? Should she even try? Would he even care?

She felt a sob catch her off guard then, escaping past tightly pressed lips that had been holding it at bay. That was unfair to him, she knew that. Alistair had been nothing but supportive from the first. He had a right to be confused and concerned, she understood that too, though it did not make it any easier for her to talk about what was troubling her. "I - I'm sorry!" she whispered, struggling with emotions that were running rampant. Wynne had told her she would have moments like this, moments in which she would feel sudden and sometimes inexplicable mood swings. "Alistair - I just …."

Alistair sighed again, but he remained, thankfully. "I don't understand," he told her. "First you tell me to leave and then you ask me to stay -"

Bryallyn removed her hand from his arm then, lifting it to wipe back the tears. "I don't understand either," she returned with a bit of a plaintive wail in her tone. "Wynne says it's because of the baby … that I'll have moments like this, changing my mind about things, getting upset for no reason." Now it was her turn to sigh. "I … I just …." She bit her lip, pulling it between her teeth and tightening her hold on it, hoping that the pain might help her focus. "I … I want … my husband..."

Before she could find courage to look up at him, to see if he was laughing at her for what she was almost certain was a childish reaction, particularly this late in the game, she felt Alistair's arms slide around her and pull her in close for a tight hug. He started speaking, but she could not focus on the words because his actions sent her over the edge yet again. Sobbing uncontrollably, she leaned into his shoulder, taking the support he was offering so freely, and simply allowing her turmoil out through tears. How long this continued, she did not know, but she would not be surprised to find that it lasted for quite a long while.

When finally she seemed to have cried herself out, Bryallyn lifted a hand to wipe tear trails from her cheeks. Through somewhat watery and blurred vision, she noticed Alistair's hand rise, a cloth in his hand that he was soon pressing into hers. His continued patience and thoughtfulness by offering her his handkerchief nearly set her off once more. "Better now?" he asked quietly.

Bryallyn nodded as she put the cloth to good use. Sniffling just a bit, she added, "Better than a moment ago. Thank you."

They stood there, both staring off into the distance with the silence settling around them. After a time, when it seemed to Bryallyn as if the silence might suffocate instead of comfort, she raised a hand and pointed off towards the northwest. "So close," she whispered feeling tears threatening once more. She felt a weight settle upon her shoulder though, and glanced up at Alistair. There was comfort offered in the pressure of his hand there, in the look upon his face.

"We could go there," he offered, "though in your current condition it might not be the best option." Bryallyn raised a brow at this, curious to his train of thought in that regard. As if reading the question in her look, he explained, "Well, Howe has control, right? I doubt that he's there, but his troops are. They're probably on guard for anyone who shows up with a Cousland connection. Since you're not only a Cousland but carrying an heir to the family, I would think that would make you doubly important for them to eliminate."

Bryallyn blinked rapidly for a moment, but a soft smile played at her lips. "Alistair," she murmured, turning slightly so she could look up at him with a bit more ease, "you are beginning to understand the politics of all of this very quickly in a short span of time."

Bryallyn saw a blush creep over his face then. "Yes … well … erm …."

Bryallyn chuckled. "You and Leliana make a good team." Bryallyn bit back even more amusement as his face darkened. She honestly was not trying to embarrass him or tease him in any way, but just when she thought he might be moving beyond his innocent upbringing, the oddest comments would set him into a tailspin.

Bryallyn felt a shifting of pressure against her abdomen then and her hand moved to rest over the place. She chuckled softly as she felt it again. It seemed as if the child was speaking to her ….

* * *

Alistair was not certain why, but it seemed even the most innocent of comments from Bryallyn could still send him blushing. He assumed it was because their relationship was much more solid now. The level of trust between them was certainly rising now that their roles in this adventure (that didn't put too glib of a spin on things, did it?) were better defined. When Bryallyn had first taken over the reins as leader of their group, Alistair had willingly allowed her to do so. However, as time had passed, as Bryallyn had pulled him into a more substantial role, Alistair had come to realize that it was probably for the best. He'd been a bit resentful at first, though he never would have said it aloud to her, and almost terrified at the thought, but as their journey progressed, she never seemed to push him beyond his limits.

To that end, their relationship seemed to have gelled into something more akin to siblings, or so he thought. Light teasing, begrudging respect, certainly a healthy level of platonic love on both ends. Had that not been the case, would Bryallyn have been able to spend the better part of the past half hour crying on his shoulder? he wondered. As she had pointed off to the northwest (his knowledge of Ferelden geography, a must-have course at the monastery, standing him well enough to realize she was indicating Highever), the placement of his hand at her shoulder in silent support had seemed as natural as breathing. He knew he'd overreacted to her observations about his assessment, though he could not quite pin down why. Perhaps it was because she had mentioned Leliana? Though, granted, Bryallyn knew about his relationship with the bard, so maybe he'd simply read too much into her comments. On the other hand, when she'd continued to praise him in regards to it, he'd just blushed harder. Internally, he was sighing in exasperation at himself.

At first, when he observed Bryallyn shifting her hand to the swell of her child, he'd felt a moment of panic. That had been enough to cause the embarrassment to fade immediately. Instead, a series of panicked questions began to haunt him. _ Did he need to find Wynne? Should he escort Bryallyn back down to the main part of the keep? Or, was it serious enough he should carry her down? Maker's breath! What if she needed immediate help? Should he call for Wynne to come up? What if …._

But as these began running through his head, he glanced down at her face to see if he could determine the state of her distress … and found something else entirely. Blinking back surprise, Alistair realized that the look on Bryallyn's face just then was one of wonder, not pain. As this began to sink in, he watched as she moved her hand just a bit, off to the side and down just a little … and then he saw it. His breath caught, he blinked some more, and then his eyes darted up to meet hers. "Was that …? Did I just …? What _was_ that?"

Bryallyn met his gaze and chuckled in amusement before replying, "That was the baby, Alistair. He was moving."

Alistair could only stare at the spot in wonder then. "Wait … he?" he finally asked.

Bryallyn smiled. "It's easier than calling the baby 'it,' don't you think?"

Alistair nodded, somewhat absently, as his eyes were drawn to yet another ripple of movement. Swallowing past a tightness in his throat that seemed to have suddenly appeared, he stammered, "What … what's it like?"

Bryallyn glanced up at him, confusion narrowing her brows. "What is what like, Alistair?"

His throat felt dry now, the words not wanting to come. Gesturing vaguely towards her belly, and fighting back another wave of embarrassment, he managed, "Having something, err … some_one_ inside of you like that? Growing? Moving? It all seems rather creepy to me …."

Bryallyn began laughing then, full, whole-hearted laughs that evidenced her amusement. Alistair supposed this was a good thing. At least she wasn't reaching over to wallop him or cuff his ears or something due to such an inelegant question. She began trying to explain to him what it was like, and Alistair did his best to try to understand, but it must have been obvious that he didn't because the next thing he knew, Bryallyn reached over, grasped his hand, and pulled it over to lay flat against her belly. "Hey!" he protested. "What? What are you doing? Why are you - Oh …." A gentle movement then against his palm was enough to make him cease his protests. He felt his eyes widen just a bit, taking in the experience simply through touch. "That … doesn't hurt?" he asked, his eyes moving to meet hers.

Bryallyn seemed to sigh then, but he noted it was one of relaxation. "Sometimes it does," she told him. "Especially if he's deciding to kick at my ribs, usually when I'm sleeping." She offered Alistair another soft smile, but he saw so much more there this time. Awe. Astonishment. Excitement. "But, overall, I have to admit that it's rather comforting."

Again, shock hit him. And confusion. "Comforting? How can him making you uncomfortable be comforting?"

Her voice was quiet and patient, but he heard the wonder there too. "It lets me know that he is doing well, Alistair. If he's moving, he's fine."

Alistair swallowed then, his eyes searching hers as he thought about what she had just told him. His eyes narrowed just a bit as he recalled their earlier conversation. The baby decided it was time to give him yet another reminder then and moved against his hand again. Taking his cue, Alistair asked quietly, "You - you're certain he's alive? Your husband, I mean?" Another silence, Alistair's thoughts jumbling around inside of his head as he gave Bryallyn a considering look and watching her nod her assurances. He had no reason to doubt her. She'd done nothing but prove herself to him all along their journey so far.

"I will help you find him," Alistair promised her quietly, the sincerity making his voice deepen just a bit, "in any way that I can."

* * *

If Alistair's promise had not brought more tears for her, his follow up actions would have. Bryallyn allowed him to lead her down from the top of the keep, not bothering to protest that his concerns for her being up there, alone, feeling miserable were not good for her or the baby. So he led her down to the main floor and after a brief stop for a considerable snack along the way (pregnant or not, the Warden appetite he had warned Bryallyn of certainly was in full steam, plus a baby that never seemed to stop!) before guiding her to Mikael Dryden's stall. Alistair had a plan, it appeared, and the moment they arrived, the ex-templar struck up a conversation with the master craftsman regarding Bryallyn's bow. While Mikael examined it, Bryallyn explained its origins to him and how it came to be in her possession. This continued, switching topics over to the daggers she carried as well and eventually on to her current set of leathers that were, sadly, becoming too small once again.

It was during this discussion, as Bryallyn felt the pull of depression threatening once more, that Mikael's wife, Serena, approached and, having observed Bryallyn's state and overheard their conversation, began reassuring the Warden that the current emotional upheaval she was experiencing was quite normal. Bryallyn found Mikael's wife to be quite pleasant and allowed the woman to lead her to other topics, all pregnancy related (the woman had had six of her own children!), not the least of which were commiserations over aching backs, the (in)ability to get out of bed come morning, and the ever increasing difficulties of seeing one's own feet. By the end of the discussions, which eventually branched off in the two men discussing the weapons and armor and the two women discussing womanly issues, Bryallyn found herself to be falling into a somewhat more amenable mood. Though she could not help but miss the simple things of her pregnancy with him, she did at least now feel as if she was in a bit more control of things. And that, as Wynne had told her more than once along the way, was a victory in itself. Today, Bryallyn could do nothing but agree.


	67. Stepping Lightly

_My apologies for the delay! My only excuse is that I've been so consumed by the muses for my Mass Effect stories that my Dragon Age muses have just had a hell of a time breaking through! (I'm about 25% done with the ME story, by the way. Hopefully will have it nearing completion shortly after the new year and then I'll post it!) - UPDATE - I began this update back in October apparently and have now posted the same above mentioned ME chapters … still writing on those stories, but never forgetting this one! _

_Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and lurked, favorited and set alerts including: DontCountMeOut, Era-Age, Yuki-sama12, KrystylSky, MayorMayKadoody, Melysande, Pint-sized She-Bear, csorciere, horselover90, jbots, Dreams of the Dawn, Neenahsmommy, jBrand625, hgillespie, feenux11, TreeWalker, Oldray, toader95, Lilys Song, Serena R. Snape, Spoo-da-loo, HeeDeeG and Prose Princess. I'm honored that you've enjoyed the story enough to follow along and have stuck with me throughout it all! _

_Thanks as always to my betas without whom I'd be so lost! Erynnar, MireliAmbar and VioletTheirin. Thank you, thank you, thank you!_

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

* * *

Damp, dank and a deep abiding cold that chilled the bones and set his teeth on edge. That about summed up Bann Loren's current sense of hospitality. Then again, it wasn't like the man had offered them a room at the royal palace. Or even inside his manor. Nathaniel's eyes scoured the dimly lit cell once more, lingering only momentarily on the manacles that held Fergus into place against the wall beside him. Nathaniel was situated similarly, though with their arms held in position above their heads, it made it difficult to look at the proper angle to fully evaluate his own incarcerating bindings.

For the umpteenth time, Nathaniel cursed himself that he'd not pocketed his set of lockpicks that morning like he usually would have. _Not that it would have done me much good_, he admitted silently, his eyes now flitting towards the far left corner of the room. He'd heard a shuffling sort of noise, but was uncertain to its source. Probably a rat or some other vermin. Instinct had him shifting his arms and wrists a bit, checking yet again for any sign of looseness. While he could feel the tingling bite as the blood began circulating a little more fluidly through his extremities, his limbs began screaming at him in regards to their current level of pain from being forced into the same position for so long.

Another sound, louder this time caught his attention. Eyes shifted towards the small window on the door. _ Just outside of the cell and to their right,_ he thought. As quickly as the hope lifted him, it died down as he realized it was, most likely, just the watch making their rounds through the passageway once again. With that in mind, Nathaniel did his best to look bored by his incarceration. That seemed to get more reaction from the guards than anything, and since getting a response from them was about the_ only_ way in which he could currently engage them, he kept trying. He'd lost track of how long they'd been imprisoned, though he thought it to be no more than a couple of days at the very most. Pain and boredom had a way of altering the perception of time.

A low groan from nearby caught Nathaniel's attention. He darted one quick look to make certain the guard had not reached their cell yet before calling over in a harsh whisper, "You okay?" The replying grunt was unintelligible, but Nathaniel at least recognized some signs of life behind it. That was an improvement over the absolute lack of response he'd had before.

The footsteps were nearing now and Nathaniel cautioned, "Guards. Try to look bored … or disinterested … or something." He only hoped that Fergus could manage that in his current condition. However long they'd been imprisoned, it was clear that the allergic reaction to the rashvine from which his brother-in-law was suffering was certainly still in full bloom. Thankfully, it didn't seem to be hindering him in any ways other than the swelling of his face and some blistering.

Shifting slightly, Nathaniel felt a sharp clawing pain shoot up through his shoulder. Biting back a curse, he attempted to ease the pain by rolling his shoulder, but with limited mobility it was to no avail. Grunting softly, he attempted to direct his focus to the sounds outside of the cell as a distraction.

The footsteps he'd heard earlier had given way to silence once again which had Nathaniel frowning in concern. Eyes lifting a bit, lids drooping to assist in hiding his interest in the matter, the rogue kept watch on the door. He could hear soft scuffling sounds from beyond, but he was uncertain their cause. So far, no one had made any sort of movement towards their cell door, but he didn't expect this to last. He was about to drop his gaze completely when he heard a slightly louder if somewhat muffled grunt, more of a scrabbling around as if someone was scratching at the heavy oaken door to the cell which ultimately gave way to the creaking groan of reluctant iron hinges as the door to the cell began, albeit slowly, moving. Dropping his gaze, Nathaniel exhaled and attempted to gather his thoughts while trying to maintain his bored expression.

"My lord!"

The hoarse whisper caught Nathaniel's attention immediately, his head rising slowly in disbelief. Beside him, he heard Fergus mumbling something unintelligible. Nathaniel narrowed his eyes in an attempt to get a better view of their 'guest', but all he could see was a silhouetted shape, light from the torches in the hall flooding in behind him. If he'd just take another step or two inside the cell ….

"It's Grayson, my lord," the whisper told him again, hurriedly crossing the room then.

As Nathaniel processed this news, Grayson went to work on the shackles at his hands and feet. "Gryffyd is outside as well," the rogue added a moment later before turning towards Fergus. As he did so, Nathaniel bit back groans of protest as his arms and shoulders protested at their sudden freedom.

"Guards?" he managed at one point, turning to slip beneath Fergus' arm as Grayson worked on the rest of the bindings.

"They are taken care of," Grayson told him. "Gryffyd is freeing some of the other prisoners. Only about half the cells were filled."

Nathaniel frowned in concern and confusion. "Who else was caught?" he demanded.

Grayson slid beneath Fergus' other arm and both men began assisting the nobleman across the room. It was clear by the grunts and groans coming from him that his previous injuries were going to be somewhat of an issue before he could move with ease once more.

"None of ours, my lord," Grayson assured him. "Gryffyd and I decided if Bann Loren's men had others to worry about, the chances of them discovering our absence and following after would be minimized." Fergus grunted again. "Especially when some of the other prisoners are dressed in royal livery."

Nathaniel froze for a moment. They were about halfway across the room. "Royal liv - … Grayson, are you certain?" he asked harshly.

Grayson nodded. "Yes, my lord. These men were from Ostagar. Of that there is no doubt."

A shadow appeared at the doorway then accompanied with a soft whistle. Grayson returned the sound. Moments later, Gryffyd entered the room and approached the rest. "My lord," he told Nathaniel, "please allow me."

It took Nathaniel a long moment to realize that the man was requesting to assist Fergus. That made sense, he supposed, given that both Grayson and Gryffyd were in good shape and unhindered by injury or stiffness. Stepping aside, Nathaniel focused on getting his own body moving more quickly. Stretching his arms and legs, attempting to get the blood flowing throughout, he bit back any sounds of protest from the aches and pains. Moments later, he signaled the others to move. They had to get out of here whether he was ready to move or not.

When they reached the doorway, Grayson peered out first. "This way," he murmured back towards Nathaniel. They made good time, though Nathaniel personally would have preferred it to be at a faster pace, but given the limitations due to their present conditions it would have to be good enough. They turned to their right and traveled down the hall, Nathaniel noticing three cell doors standing ajar as they passed. As they junctioned with a cross hall, Grayson nodded to the right. Automatically, Nathaniel's head turned. Where he thought he might find a path leading out, instead he found a small niche area containing something resembling a desk, a chair and a chest. The first two he ignored, but Nathaniel wanted to examine the contents of the chest, particularly since he and Fergus were currently weaponless. Whatever had become of their gear upon their arrival, he had no clue. However, in this moment, without his lockpicks, Nathaniel was effectively out of luck.

"My lord?"

Nathaniel glanced back at Grayson who was stretching his arm out towards him, a ring of keys dangling from his fingers. Nathaniel felt a bit of fire flare behind his eyes for the first time since being taken. It was better than nothing, right? Nodding his appreciation, Nathaniel took the keys and began fiddling with the chest.

* * *

From the moment they'd been captured, Fergus's focus hadn't been on their captors, but his own personal dilemma. As a child, he'd discovered in the most difficult way possible (while out hunting with Bryallyn of all things) that he was very allergic to rashvine. That he and Bryallyn had managed to return to the keep at Highever in time to get him the help needed had been one of Andraste's own miracles, he knew. For days afterwards he'd suffered through the swellings and rash, and each time Bry had set eyes upon him he'd seen a sadness there. Later, and through the wisdom of his mother, he'd come to find out that it was guilt. Seeking Bryallyn out and after a long talk where he had reassured her that it was not her fault, she'd stopped with the tortured looks. It had taken her time to muster up the courage to ask him to go hunting with her again, to truly put the guilt and blame behind her, but she had and their next venture had been well worth the discomfort and dangers of the first. They had a bond between them, one dating back to the time she had saved him from kidnapping, perhaps even before, and with each new (mis)adventure, it only strengthened.

But if there was one thing he had taken to heart from his encounter with nature that time, it was that despite being a nobleman, he was vulnerable. He could become a target for plant or beast. This time though, it had been both, and of the two, he knew which was the more dangerous and deadly.

The health potion he'd downed so quickly right before he and Nathaniel had been captured appeared to have done the trick in staving off the worst of his concerns regarding the rashvine exposure. Though he had felt a bit wheezy later on, he suspected that was just a side effect of his imprisonment in the cell and suspended in his shackles as he had been than it was an actual reaction to the rashvine poisoning itself. No, the worst he was having to deal with out of the experience this time was the swelling which would lead, he knew from experience, to the horrendous itching that would soon follow. Maker, he needed to be free of the bindings by then. As he recalled, the itching had been the worst part, eating away at his skin like a ….

The arrival of Grayson and Gryffyd, though, had been distraction enough to cease that train of thought. Stiff, sore, and face still swollen enough to make speech unintelligible, Fergus had been more than happy and just a little grateful for the assistance when the two men had moved over to offer their help. Then the real adventure began. Feeling like a rat caught in some sort of maze, Fergus found it difficult to find enough visual perception in the dimly lit passageways to get a good sense of direction. Not that it would have mattered, really. He hadn't paid much attention as Bann Loren's men had brought him and Nathaniel in the first time.

When they came to a halt a short time later, Fergus was slightly confused. He felt Grayson shifting, heard him rasping something out to catch Nathaniel's attention. Moments later, he heard Nathaniel's rumbling baritone near his ear and a tugging at his hip. "Your blade," Nate told him. Fergus inhaled sharply. In the process of being taken in by their captors, his thoughts so clearly focused on his condition, Fergus had nearly forgotten that his blade, his grandfather's blade, had been at his side. But Nate had remembered.

Overcome for just a moment, he missed the hushed discussion that followed between his brother by marriage and Gryffyd. Turning, he made a grunting sound, as hushed as he could, to get their attention. But all he received in return was Nate's voice, assuring him, "Let Grayson and Gryffyd help you for now. We'll be out of here soon enough." Fergus sighed in resignation, for really, what else could be done? His face was so swollen he could barely see, let alone well. There was no way, given the state he was in combined with the older injuries that ached, that he could fight his way out. He would have to let Nathaniel lead the way.

* * *

Carefully leading the way down the long hall, Nathaniel listened to the sounds up ahead of them, attempting to sort them out to his satisfaction. There were the clattering sounds of armor plating and weapons and other pieces and parts made of metal and used in warfare, occasional shouts of alarm or alert, as well as several giving orders and direction. It was that last he listened for closest, hoping that he could use their content to guide his own direction away from trouble. It took them a long time to travel what, in actuality, really was only a fairly short distance to exit from the cells, but by the time they arrived at the last juncture the majority of the Bann's men were gone, the few left on guard were still distracted as they moved from cell to cell (and now behind Nathaniel and his party), and they were able to step out into the fresh air and freedom.

It was at that point that Grayson released Fergus and stepped up beside Nathaniel. "My lord?" He gestured to their left. "This way."

"Lead on," Nathaniel ordered quietly, taking Grayson's place at Fergus' side. "Hold on, Fergus," he hissed once more near his friend's ear. And for the first time since this fiasco had started, Nathaniel finally felt hope that it would soon be over.


	68. This Neck of the Woods

_I apologize for the delay in posting. Part of it has been due to having so many other muses active (both crafting and writing) and part of it has been due to a brand new computer that arrived just before Valentine's Day and then the hard drive went belly up in April. Thankfully, though, the issue is resolved and I am working on getting things back on track! (I'm also trying to get my DAO and DAA reinstalled so I can play for inspiration!)_

_Thank you to all who have read, reviewed and lurked over the past several months! I do try to keep track of you all, and to see your comments and likes and favs pop up in my inbox goes a long way towards stirring the muses into talking! Thanks to: Pint-sized She-Bear, Pollyanna24, ReflctngGoddess, Prose Princess, geekagurl, meowitsashley, su4knuj, barlovento, zerohazai, AMLuman, AnimeAddict1059, smoressi, KyrstylSky, WitchwithKids, Poison1234-KW, Noxilix, SnowHelm, EchoesofSilence, FearNotTheNight, Choobacca, vanessakhoon, ashevre, Roxy Anna Painter, gracie21, pixie08353 and Muffcakes. Your interest and your comments are greatly appreciated!_

_Thanks to my fabulous betas without whom I'd be so lost: __**Erynnar, MireliAmbar**__ and __**VioletTheirin.**_

* * *

They were heading south. Ultimately, their intended destination would be south and then west, to Rainesfere as Teagan's offer of protection and safety for the time when her child arrived was too much of a good thing to pass on with the current price on their heads by Loghain. And, with each day bringing Bryallyn closer to that day, slowing her steps and their travel time, and Wynne insisting that they 'take it easy' as much as possible, an early start combined with the shortening days and colder nights signalling the onset of the winter season, now was as good a time as any to get started in that direction. Their goal was to make their way west, across the northern edge of Lake Calenhad and then south between the lake and the Frostback Mountains.

They made their way southward from Soldier's Peak, then, traveling through the peaks and valleys of the northern mountains, finally breaking their way just south of the northern branch of the Imperial Highway into the Bannorn proper. Along the way, Bryallyn took note of the devastation and destruction, most of which was not caused by the Blight, but rather man fighting against man, and she felt her heart nearly break at the thought of it all. The evidence of battle was clear: broken shields and armor, pieces and parts of weapons, bloodstained fields. More than anything, including the less savory side effects of her pregnancy, this made her stomach churn and heave. Thanks to Loghain, people were busily fighting each other instead of uniting against the true enemy. It was something that angered her to her core, something her father had taught her from a young age, before her destiny had led her away from the ranks of nobility. _The people need protecting, pup, and it is our job to make certain that happens._

They were crossing through a heavily wooded area heading west when more of that evidence met them face to face. As they moved just over a rise, the ground dropped off below them. The gurgling of a stream could be heard nearby, too. The area was well forested, trees and other plants though not showing signs of the Blight just yet, still contained evidence of other ills. Zevran was leading the way and had made it to the top of the rise when Bryallyn saw him crouch low, moving quickly behind a large boulder. His hand outstretched towards them, the signals became clear: potential enemies up ahead. Bryallyn had been reaching for her bow from the moment she saw him drop, the others now quickly followed suit, all armed within moments. She gave Constant a signal to remain silent, the mabari nodding understanding as the two of them moved slowly and quietly forward to Zevran's side. "What is it?" Bryallyn asked.

The Crow moved his arm to point at the vale below them. Several guards marked in armor that identified them as Bann Loren's men surrounded another man who, though disheveled, was dressed in the livery of the king. Bryallyn's breath caught. What were Cailan's men doing so far north? Hadn't everyone died at Ostagar? Turning to her right, Bryallyn signaled Alistair up beside her. Watching his face closely, the scowl that set in told her he identified the man as well.

Blades and bows were suddenly being drawn below, and Bryallyn nodded first at Alistair and then Zevran. They, along with Sten and Constant would move up close to attack while Bryallyn, Leliana, Wynne and Morrigan would remain back, fighting from range. Though tricky, because ultimately the goal was to keep the man in the king's livery alive, after a good ten minutes of combat and, as a last resort, Morrigan transforming into a large bird of prey to grasp the king's man and drag him from one last, desperate attack by one of Bann Loren's men, the vale once again became silent save for the natural sounds one might expect.

"Wynne," Bryallyn asked, "please attend him."

"Of course," the mage replied.

Turning to Morrigan, once again in human form, Bryallyn arched her brow. "Well, that's a pretty nifty trick," she commented.

Morrigan simply sniffed, brushing the last residue of her experience from her clothing. "'Tis not a simple 'trick' as you call it," she pointed out in her usual haughty manner.

Bryallyn sighed. "Of course not," she corrected, nodding slightly in apology. "My point was simply that your use of said ability at such a time was greatly appreciated. By myself, if not by him." She concluded with a final nod in the man's direction before turning away to follow after Wynne.

Alistair offered her his arm and Bryallyn gratefully accepted his assistance as she knelt beside the figure lying before them. "How is he?" she asked quietly.

"Not good, I'm afraid," Wynne replied.

Kneeling beside Bryallyn, Alistair murmured, "His name is Elric Maraigne. We talked a few times at Ostagar."

Bryallyn nodded. She'd met him as well during her short stay there. "He was part of the king's honor guard, as I recall."

"Hmm. One might wonder why he is so far from that place and just how he came to be here," Zevran noted as he stepped up behind both Alistair and Bryallyn.

Elric began moaning then, moving fitfully but at least seemed to be regaining consciousness. "Thank you," he finally managed as Wynne moved to prop him up by his shoulders. "I didn't expect the bann's men to notice my escape quite so quickly being there were so many of us fleeing." He sighed. "I tried to hide here in the woods, but there wasn't time. And now I'm a dead man."

Bryallyn frowned slightly. "What do you mean, there wasn't time?" she asked.

He took a deep breath, gathering himself as he tried to answer. "You were there, at Ostagar. You know how things went. For me it was either this, or die in some darkspawn's belly … or be hung as a deserter."

"I daresay most people think the same of you and me, if not worse," Alistair suggested to Bryallyn.

Bryallyn's frown deepened. Alistair had a point. With all the rumors out there, and the orders issued by Loghain, they'd been quite lucky so far in their survival. "You deserted?" she asked Elric then.

"I fled the battlefield when Loghain betrayed us. I abandoned my men, and they died, and Cailan with them. He was my king, my friend," Elric explained miserably. "Maker, all that time in Bann Loren's prison and I couldn't stop thinking about all they suffered that one dark night at Ostagar..."

Bryallyn nodded in understanding. "We don't always get to choose our deaths," she reminded him as gently as possible.

It was a moment before he responded. "No, perhaps not. But I've been given a chance to set things right. If its the likes of you who sees me to my final hour, perhaps things happen for a reason. The king entrusted me with the keys to the royal arms chest. If anything were to happen to him, he said, it was vital I deliver it to the Wardens."

Bryallyn glanced over at Alistair, but he just shook his head and shrugged. He clearly had no prior knowledge of this. "Why didn't he just give the key to Duncan?" she asked.

Elric shook his head. "He didn't get the chance. Duncan was always so busy with the new recruits and keeping Loghain at bay. Whatever his reasoning, it's me Cailan entrusted it to."

"Is this chest important?" she asked next.

This time it was Alistair who answered. Nodding, he explained, "The royal arms chest - it's where Cailan kept his father's sword. The one he said he'd slay the archdemon with."

"More than that," Elric added, "there was a secret compartment where he kept documents concerning his dealings with the Empress Celene and the Orlesians."

Bryallyn was silent for a moment as she considered this. If anyone were to ever find such things, the ramifications could be very negative, indeed. "Do you still have this key?" she asked next.

"The Maker has a sense of humor, doesn't he?" Elric told her. "I suppose it's for the best, however - had I kept it, it would be in Bann Loren's hands by now."

"But you said Cailan had entrusted it to you!" Wynne exclaimed.

"I was afraid. I thought I would lose it on the battlefield, so I stashed it in the camp. Please - it's probably still there."

"You don't think the darkspawn would have found it?" Bryallyn challenged.

"I hope not," he replied. "Would they even know how to work a lock even if they did?"

"The darkspawn are more cunning than we give them credit for," Wynne told him, "but the king trusted that lock with his secrets. I'd guess that the contents of that chest are still intact."

Elric nodded slowly and it became clear he was beginning to fade. "The key's behind a loose stone in the base of a statue. I'll draw a map for you so you'll know where to search."

Bryallyn nodded and reached for the journal she carried in her pack. Handing that, quill and ink over, she moved to help Wynne prop the man at a better angle to get the job done. It took him several minutes, certainly longer than many would need, but given the current state of his health Bryallyn found herself a bit surprised that he was able to manage at all.

While Elric drew, Alistair turned towards her and asked, "You'll be taking me along, won't you? Call me sentimental, but I left behind some darkspawn that really deserve a sword through the middle."

Bryallyn chuckled softly. Leave it to Alistair to find a bit of humor in this entire situation. She opened her mouth to reply when she heard Wynne state, "The events at Ostagar still haunt my thoughts. Bryallyn, if that is where we are headed, I would like to accompany you."

Bryallyn sighed softly. It didn't surprise her that these two would insist upon being there. Not after their prior experiences during that battle. "We shall see," she finally replied.

Elric pushed the journal, quill and ink towards Bryallyn's hand when he was done. "It is vital the king's documents do not fall into the wrong hands. As for Maric's sword, it's too powerful to be pawed at by those monsters. Same for the king's other arms and armor." He paused, taking a deep, labored breath. "And … and if you happen to find Cailan's body, see it off. He was our king. He shouldn't be left to rot amidst the darkspawn's filth." Elric's words drifted off as he breathed his last.

As Wynne moved to lay him down, Alistair helped Bryallyn to her feet. Glancing at her fellow Warden, Bryallyn asked, "Can you and the others prepare a pyre for him, please?"

Alistair nodded. "Of course."

Turning to Zevran, she asked, "Would you scout around the area? I think we'll camp here for the night." A quick glance upwards reassured her senses that the sun was beginning to set. "We can leave first thing in the morning."

"And our destination?" he asked, though Bryallyn could sense each member of the group waiting expectantly for her reply.

"Ostagar," Bryallyn announced. "We shall come to the aid of the king one last time." _And hope that if finds him and those who were sacrificed, some lasting peace_, she added silently.


	69. Le Renard Blanc

**_The character of Kaytaryn Desmarias, aka: Le Renard Blanc, is one I created for a Dragon Age RP site. She was my first, and is one of my favorites, and as I created her background to tie in with some of my other Dragon Age writings (her mother is a character in my_**_ "We Do What Must Be Done"_**_), I wanted to actually bring her to life in one of my fics. I believe she is a good match for this story. Enjoy!_**

_Thank you to all who have been reading, reviewing, following and adding this story to their alerts. Your continued interest is just the right encouragement to keep this story going! I apologize for any delay - introducing Kayt has taken much extra effort at this end as I wanted to make certain I did her arrival justice! _

_Thank you as always to my fabulous betas, __**Mireliambar**__ and __**Erynnar**__ without whom I'd be so completely lost!_

_As always, Bioware owns all except for Bryallyn, Constant and now Kayt ..._

* * *

The world around them was falling apart around them. There was war on, though if rumors were correct the 'war' was actually two separate conflicts - one between men and one between man and an ancient evil. Wherever the actual truth lay, for the majority of Fereldans it could ultimately be seen in the daily lives of the common folk who were suffering. And, if there were people suffering, there was a job that needing doing. And _that_ was the reason for the return.

_Le Renard Blanc._

Both name and accent were Orlesian, though the original tales came from a time when those people had been the enemy in this land. The history was one of the old stories: _A voice for those who needed one. An arm for those who could not defend themselves. Justice served for those who deserved it._

The inevitable side effects of the current war were making such situations more frequent again, more desperate. Too many were in need of assistance and _Le Renard_ was only one person. However, denying aid was not an option, and thus kept _Le Renard_ in constant movement throughout the country. The old tales often told of a stranger who traveled from village to city, from the Frostbacks to the eastern Brecilian Forest, the Waking Sea to the Korcari Wilds. But now there was a new twist to the story. _Le Renard Blanc,_ the White Fox, no longer traveled alone. Always nearby if not right beside was the ever faithful companion, a wolf so dark in color that it was sometimes hard to tell when he was there and when he was not. An animal that didn't need sound or words to direct his efforts in battle and who could be just as deadly as the stranger himself. The stories told of the animal being the counter image of the master, the dark to the light, but equal in dispensing justice.

Forsworn duty had brought _Le Renard_ to this town on this day, the desperate pleas of a kinsman in a nearby village all but begging his assistance. There was a brother, dragged out of his bed before dawn and taken away at sword's point when taxes couldn't be raised and threats by press gangs sent out by supporters of Loghain intent upon rebuilding the army lost at Ostagar. The trail, such as it was, led to this town and on this day, _Le Renard_ intended to see the man set free.

But such things must wait for appropriate timing and darkness ….

* * *

"Is the risk worth the reward, my lord?" Trinion asked Nathaniel as they entered the village.

"We need supplies," Rhyan countered logically. "Where else would we get them?"

Though still hobbling slightly, face still a bit puffy and red from the last of the rashvine poisoning he'd suffered, Fergus murmured, "This village is under the bannship of one loyal to my father. We should encounter no troubles here."

"That doesn't mean there couldn't be traitors," Nathaniel reminded him. Of them all, he remembered that lesson best.

"This is true," Fergus agreed with a reluctant sigh. "However, I can guarantee you that no one under Bann Nicholas' rule has any love lost for Bann Loren. The history between those two goes back a long way."

"I'd still feel less concerned if we looked a more normal group," Trinion insisted.

Nathaniel chuckled. They did currently have the look that suggested they were mercenaries for hire, he had to admit. Over the past weeks and months, as they'd journeyed, they'd been swapping out bits of armor, replacing pieces that had been damaged beyond repair, fixing others. None of them had the complete set they'd once had and, in Nathaniel's and Fergus' case, neither currently had armor, having fled Bann Loren's prisons only with their weapons.

"Come along, my lord," Rhyan purred teasingly as she slipped her arm through Nathaniel's. The market square was open before them as they rounded the corner. "We'll make things look more 'normal' to ease Trinion's mind."

Fergus chuckled, noticing a slight unease in his brother-by-marriage, but he couldn't help it. Since meeting up with Nathaniel and his group, he'd learned quite a bit about the other members, particularly the ones from the Free Marches, and if there was one thing he'd noticed about Rhyan Meyrick, it was that she had an impish side to her and enjoyed unsettling Nathaniel whenever possible. Grinning a bit more widely at the scowl Nathaniel tossed his way, Fergus added, "Go on. Go be 'normal.'"

That apparently was all the encouragement that Rhyan needed as she tugged on Nathaniel's arm and began moving towards the western side of the square. Trinion and a few of the others moved off too, scattering within the crowd, but Grayson remained beside Fergus. Fergus eyed him then. "Have you no items to procure?" he inquired.

Grayson simply smiled. "I will find what I need, my lord, when I need it. First, though, I thought to assist you."

Fergus sighed softly, but he did nod. "Alright then," he agreed. He knew to protest would do no good - Grayson had proven over his years of service that in situations such as this, he would remain until the mission was complete. "Lead on."

Grayson smiled. "As you wish, my lord."

* * *

"Test the craftsmanship," the merchant advised, pointing to where the straps were sewn on. "You'll not find another of its like in all of Ferelden."

The chestnut haired woman held the leather pack by its straps with one hand and tugged firmly with her other. Next she checked the ties and buckles that would keep it and the built in pouches shut. Clearly, she understood what merchants expected of a buyer - a thorough investigation into the quality of their product. Nodding a moment later, she handed over some coins. "I will take it," she told the merchant. "Thank you."

The man smiled, nodding enthusiastically, and pocketed the money. It would be enough to buy food for his family for the week. As she had not moved away yet, he thought maybe to suggest a belt - he made some of the finest both with and without pouches - but the arrival of two more patrons caught his attention. Turning towards them, he was quick with his greeting. "Ah, good sers, welcome. How may I meet your needs this fine day?"

The taller of the two stepped forward. Offering a slightly self-mocking smile, he gestured towards his waist. "I am in need of a belt," he explained. "Sadly, this one has seen better days, and -"

The merchant nodded, his hand rising to rub at the scruff on his chin. "I see," he murmured, eyes narrowing in thought. They met the brown of the man standing before him, evaluating his customer as surely the man was doing the same to him. He noted the condition of the man's dress, clothing in similar state as his belt, and considered. He was not a greedy man, by any means, and though he did prefer days in which he made a better profit, he was not above making certain his fellow merchants were likely to have good days as well. These were difficult times and no matter the situation, they had to look out for each other.

Reaching to his right, the merchant pulled out a sturdy, simply decorated length of leather. Though not his most elaborate of designs, it was strong and would last for a long while. It was also one of the less expensive ones. Handing it over for the man to inspect, he explained, "The widow Thompson, four stalls over," he pointed further into the square, "and I often work together, should your needs fall to clothing and the like."

The man chuckled. "I will take that under advisement. Thank you." After examining the belt, he handed it over to the man beside him. A moment later, he was handing it back with a nod. "I will take this, thank you," he announced as he reached for his coin pouch. "Have you any further suggestions?"

The merchant nodded and smiled. "That I do, my lord," he replied and then began to identify the others in the marketplace.

* * *

When the leather merchant had mentioned the widow Thompson, Kayt had offered him a small nod of thanks for his earlier assistance before moving on. One thing she was in desperate need of as the seasons continued to shift towards winter was a new cloak. She'd been saving up for one, too, and now was as good a time as any to look, right? With that in mind, she approached the woman and explained her situation.

As it happened, the good widow did have several cloaks of varying designs, fabrics and lengths in her stores, and so Kayt spent several minutes trying them on. "Oh, that one does look nice on you, miss," the woman declared as Kayt pulled the darker green one around her shoulders. "The color near matches your eyes."

Kayt chuckled. "I suppose it does at that," she agreed easily and with a warm smile. "It is, however, just a bit too long for the likes of me." Both glanced down to find that the length was at least six inches longer than necessary for Kayt's shorter frame.

The widow Thompson smiled. "If you like it, I can make alterations," she promised.

Kayt paused to consider this. The cloak was simple, yet made of a sturdy fabric. It was one that would offer warmth in the winter and could, upon occasion, serve as a blanket if necessary or shelter from the rain. The design and decorations were simple, nothing too outlandish that would set her apart from the average Fereldan, no matter where she traveled. "I do like it," she agreed. "How long would alterations take?"

Just then, the two men who had approached while Kayt had been at the leather merchant's stall arrived to see the widow. Glancing over, she offered a smile of welcome and a slight nod. "I will be with you good sers in just a moment," the widow told them.

"Please," the taller man replied, "do not rush. We are more than happy to wait our turn."

As he turned to look more fully in her direction, Kayt met his gaze … and in his eyes found something familiar. It wasn't the color, or at least not that alone, she noted. That soft, caramel color was mixed with … _unbearable pain, anger, frustration … _ Her eyes narrowed just a bit. But beyond that, she could not shake the feeling that there was something else. _I know this man!_ she thought, though she could not place from where.

"I can have this ready for you just after closing this evening, miss," the widow told her in response to her earlier question.

Distracted, Kayt turned her attention back to the matter at hand and nodded. "That will be fine," she replied while handing over her coins. "I will return for it then. Thank you."

The widow then turned to deal with the gentlemen and Kayt found herself torn. The more she thought about it, the more she was certain … she KNEW those eyes. But … why? From where? She'd met so many people in a life spent traveling from town to town, village to village … undoubtedly she'd met others who had the same …

_No, not the same,_ the voice in the back of her head reminded her emphatically just before Kayt turned to leave the stall.

* * *

The widow was polite enough, though Fergus couldn't help but glance over at the young woman leaving, the motion of her braid shifting over her shoulder to her back catching his attention out of the corner of his eye. Focus now clearly on her, he caught sight of her face and though it did not strike any familiar chord, he could appreciate the simple beauty there. It was clear she was a woman of the outdoors, tanned as she was. And then he noticed the tattoo on her cheek… and blinked. _A fox?_ he mused. _Why would someone have the tattoo of a fox on their face?_

But then reality set in again as the widow began asking questions that required thoughtful answers … though the voice inside his head continued to ponder and muse. _She's a similar height to Bryallyn, barely up to your shoulders. And her body language … that's one who knows how to survive, to blend in with her surroundings, one at east with her surroundings …._

"She's a ranger," he murmured. Maybe _that_ was why she seemed familiar?

"I beg your pardon, ser?" the widow asked. Grayson, too, arched his brow in question.

Fergus emitted a soft, embarrassed chuckle, hand rising to rub at the back of his neck. "Nothing," he assured them. "Just … pieces of a puzzle falling into place. I beg your pardon. Now, on what point did you require my input?"

They spent a short while discussing with the widow some of the clothing items he would need - two shirts, a good sturdy pair of pants, a heavier cloak - but when they finished and were walking away, arrangements to pick the items up in the morning made, Fergus began scanning the square. He wanted - no, _needed_ - to find her again.

"My lord," Grayson murmured in a slightly teasing tone, "you appear to be a bit … distracted."

Fergus gave the man a dry look. "I thought you were along to 'assist' me, not harrass me?"

Grayson, to his credit, barely smiled. "Indeed, my lord. How may I assist you now?"

Muttering to himself, Fergus turned into the crowd and continued on, eyes ever on alert.

* * *

"So," Nathaniel commented mildly as he reached for his tankard and took a long pull from it, "Grayson tells me you had a bit of an adventure this afternoon."

Fergus rolled his eyes before focusing solely on his meal. "No wonder you and Bry get along so well," he muttered irritably, "you're both annoying."

Nathaniel chuckled fondly as he thought on his wife. "Well, there's also the -"

Fergus was quick to send an elbow into his companion's ribs. "Maker's ass, man, I don't need to _hear_ about you and my sister!"

Nathaniel couldn't hold back a wide grin. For the first time in a very long while, he was beginning to feel ... hopeful. He couldn't quite put a name or a reason to it, and maybe it had more to do with the fact that, even against the odds they were currently facing, they were managing to survive, but he felt … good about their chances. Granted, some specific news of his wife would not be amiss, but he knew the chances of that happening anytime soon were next to nothing at best. And then there was the fact that Fergus had been caught distracted. It was too good of an opportunity to let pass. Some friendly, brotherly ribbing might actually help the man through his own grief. "So then … what was she like?"

Fergus scowled. "Drop it," he muttered.

Nathaniel's grin only widened. "I believe the description I heard was that she was quite 'fair' looking, 'fetching' even, and -"

Shoving his food to the side, Fergus rose as quickly as he could from the bench he was sharing with Nathaniel and left the table. Sighing, Nathaniel rose and followed. He supposed there was a good side to this fit of temper and bit of tantrum. Fergus certainly seemed to be moving better than he had since they had found him in the Wilds.

He followed his brother outside the tavern and into the street. "Fergus, I was only joking!" Then again, given Fergus' reaction to some lighthearted teasing, maybe there was more to this than was obvious? He wouldn't be the first man to fall for a pretty face simply by seeing them in a crowd.

"No you weren't," Fergus responded grumpily. "Your brain was addled by that swill you were drinking."

Nathaniel laughed. "You were drinking the same 'swill,'" he pointed out in a logical fashion. "Now come on back before the others eat our meals for us. I don't know about you, but I'm not looking forward to going hungry all night."

But Fergus hesitated, and again Nathaniel had that sense that there was something more to his friend's current state. Reaching out, Nathaniel placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Fergus?" This time, there was more concern in his tone.

Fergus sighed. "Sorry," he muttered while staring further down the darkened street.

Nathaniel frowned as he released his grasp. "What is it?"

Glancing over his shoulder briefly, Fergus caught Nathaniel's gaze and the younger man could see bitterness and worry mixing there. "Is it wrong that I should …." He growled angrily and turned away. "Never mind."

"Is what wrong?" Nathaniel asked, all traces of teasing gone from his tone. "That you spotted a pretty lass in the market and thought of her in those terms?" Nathaniel shrugged. "There is no harm in appreciating beauty, is there?"

Fergus scowled. "No, but -"

"Why does this distress you so?" Nathaniel challenged. "Did you not see 'pretty' women before? While you were married? While Oriana yet lived?"

"Of course I did," Fergus protested.

"Then why now does it bother you that you notice it now?"

Fergus tossed his arms in the air and hissed back angrily, "Because it's been half a year since my family was slaughtered by your bastard of a father and I've yet to properly mourn them!" Fergus felt the anger shudder through him then, felt his personal pain battling with his hatred of Nathaniel's father. "Nate … I'm sorry …," he finally managed, unable to look at him after such an outburst.

Nathaniel had stiffened a bit at the deep seated hatred in Fergus' outburst, but not because of what the man had said. If anything, he understood all too well what Fergus was going through. "No need to apologize," he returned quietly. "He did us both wrong and will deserve whatever fate comes his way." Nathaniel just hoped he would have an opportunity to be present for that moment. "Now come on. Our dinner grows colder with each passing moment and that's only if the others have not eaten it."

Fergus managed a small chuckle. "I suppose you're -"

Later he wouldn't be able to definitively say what it was that caught his attention and had him glancing further down the darkened street. The sound of air moving against clothing? Soft footsteps across the hardened dirt path? The heavy panting of an animal as it followed along? The slightest fluttering of movement in the shadows where there should have been none? Whatever it was, Fergus lifted his head in that direction, eyes narrowing intently. Elbowing Nathaniel, Fergus' hand went to rest at the hilt of his blade at his side. "Did you hear that? See it?" he demanded softly.

Nathaniel only had his blades with him just then, but pulled one dagger free as he moved into step with his friend. "I did." And he had. One of the things he had always been attuned to while hunting were the sounds and movements around him. Loud or soft, he was able to hear thm and use them to assist his tracking. This he did now, moving several steps ahead of Fergus and gesturing the man to follow him. Something had been crossing their path just a short ways ahead.

* * *

The best missions happened quickly and quietly. In this instance, springing the kinsman from his cell, one so secret that even _Le Renard_ had had difficulties in finding its location. Next, sneaking him out to the edges of town while leaving no trace of the escape behind them. At least until morning by which time, not much would be able to be done about it. And that was if _any_thing would be done at all. The local bann was known to be against Loghain, against those who believed that the Blight was the true evil upon the land. But even deep within truth lies could be found, in this particular situation rumor had it that it was the son of the bann who was working to undermine his father's efforts.

At the edge of the town, _Le Renard_ handed a small bag to the former prisoner, pressed it tightly into his hand and murmured in a heavily accented tone, "Go west. Do not return to your village. It will be the first place they will search."

A look of dazed confusion still covered his features as he grasped _Le Renard_'s hand and began pumping it up and down several times. "Oh, thank you!" he repeated in a hoarse voice for the umpteenth time since their escape. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

_Le Renard_ pulled free of his hold and waved a hand outwards to the open bannorn beyond. "_Allez vite_!"

The sound of footsteps behind them seemed to break the man free of his indecision. Turning, he scrambled away quickly, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. While he did so, _Le Renard_ reached for the shouldered bow and in one smooth motion, both drew an arrow, nocking it into the bowstring and turned to face those on approach. "_Arrêtez!"_ came the order not a moment later followed quickly by a barking growl to the left.

It took several moments, but the footsteps slowed, eventually coming to a halt leaving only a few feet between them. For a long moment, nothing was said and the only thing that could be heard were the slightly hurried breaths of the men who had run up. "_Qu'est-ce que vous voulez_?" _Le Renard_ demanded.

"You … you're Orlesian?" the hawkish looking one gasped.

_Le Renard_ sniffed, the question was really undeserving an answer as obvious as the answer to it was, but the answer was supplied anyway. "I am." Again, the accent was heavy.

"Who was that?" the second man asked, nodding towards the distance where the kinsman had escaped.

"No one of concern to you," was the reply. The animal nearby began to growl again, but _Le Renard_ lowered a hand and made a gesture. For the moment at least the wolf quieted.

"We should go," the second man murmured to his companion. _Le Renard_ noticed that the hawkish man did not appear to agree with this.

"But … Fergus … this could be some dangerous -"

The one named Fergus kept his eyes upon _Le Renard_, but shook his head. "No. I will explain it to you later, but we need to get back to the others. There is no danger here." And with nothing else but a simple nod, the two men turned and left leaving _Le Renard_ with a somewhat perplexed look upon a face hidden beneath a hood.

* * *

For several days, Fergus found himself recalling that encounter as clearly as if it had happened only moments before. There had been something familiar about it, but not something he felt he could put into words. Oh, he'd known who the person was easily enough. Not many wandered around in the dead of night, hood's pulled forward so that faces could remain hidden, a darker than dark wolf companion beside them. He remembered all too clearly the stories that had been told in the years leading up to his departure from Highever of _Le Renard Blanc_, the ellusive traveling vigilante who sought justice for those who could not fight for themselves. And granted, he'd been older when the stories had begun to circulate, certainly in his mid-late teens, his parents had pulled him aside one evening and told both him and Bryallyn of the true identity of _Le Renard Blanc_. Fergus knew it could not be the same person. Marianne Desmarais had died during the mission she had been on with his parents. No, this version had to be someone else, but it appeared as if the reasons for his 'return' were similar.

So as he sat before the fire that night eating dinner, some miles removed from the village in which he'd had the encounter, his thoughts were distracted both by the legend and the familiarity of the person who had stood before him and Nathaniel that evening. All it had taken was the light from the moon peeking around the clouds for him to recognize the fabric of the cloak. Though her voice was different - lower, more heavily accented than he'd recalled from the market - Fergus had no doubt that the person behind the hood would have a tattoo of a fox upon her cheek, long chestnut hair pulled back into a braid that trailed down her back reaching nearly to her waist. The only question that remained in his mind was … who was she?

Dinner was handed to him and he sat back, taking a bite of the stew while considering the pieces of the puzzle as he knew them. He felt as if he should know her … or maybe that was just a side effect of the knowledge of who _Le Renard_ had once been? So much of his childhood had been filled with stories of the Orlesian ex-patriot who had helped Bryce and Eleanor, of the life sacrificed for the greater good. A heroine highly respected by his parents and one whom the elder Couslands had tried to help live on, if only through shared memories. Yet, he also knew that it was through those stories that Marianne Desmarais had been kept alive and a debt of honor had been paid. Fergus himself had only just begun relating some of those stories to Oren before his young life had been cut short ….

The sound of a flurry of movement nearby drew Fergus' thoughts away from the temptation of despair, and he like the others around the fire prepared for battle. Sword and shield raised, he turned towards the disturbance … only to find a familiar face entering their circle. Their eyes met and held for a moment and yet, before he knew it, a smile graced his lips and he was setting aside his weapons. "This is a surprise," he told her as he stepped forward and offered her his hand in friendship. His focus on her was such that he did not notice Nathaniel holding the others back for the moment.

"I hope you do not mind," she told him, a soft smile turning at her lips as she clasped her hand and forearm to his with a nod of greeting. "I saw the light from your fire and …."

"Of course not," Fergus assured her, gesturing to a seat nearby. "Please join us." As she sat, he moved around to his position beside her. He took a long moment to identify the members of his party. "We never met properly back in town," he continued. "I am Fergus Co-"

Her smile seemed to widen then, a brightness reaching her eyes. "Cousland?" she breathed, half question, half statement.

Fergus nodded, suddenly caught off guard. Eyes narrowing slightly in a frown more of consternation than anything else, he asked, "You appear to have me at a disadvantage. Have we met before?"

If it was possible for her smile to brighten more, it did just then. Turning to face him, she announced, "My apologies. No, we have not actually met, though I did see you once some years ago when I traveled through Highever." She took a deep breath before explaining, "I know you, or at least I know your parents, through my mother. I was very young when I lost her, but she left me a written journal. Near the end of that journal, she spoke of two very dear friends and a mission of utmost importance …."

The pieces that had been gnawing at the back of his mind for the past several days suddenly slammed hard into place. "You?" he breathed, shock widening his eyes. "You are Marianne's daughter?"

"I am," she agreed quietly. "My full name is Kaytaryn, but most people simply call me Kayt."

* * *

She had seen him once, when in her late teens and traveling through Highever with her guardian, as she'd told him, but Kayt still recognized the boy he'd been then in the man that now sat before her. There were only a few years between them, not enough to make much difference these days, and in some ways he looked older than she now. The events of Highever just months before were not unfamiliar to her, of course. At the time, she'd been in Denerim, and the whispered rumors had assailed the city in a storm of speculative intrigue. They had brought both pain and despair.

Kayt nodded her thanks when one of the others handed over a cup with something warm in it. She took a quick whiff and identified it as tea. While she sat there, she listened to Fergus explain what he knew of her and her past to his friends. It became clear as he spoke that he knew quite a bit of the story, and that reassured her that his parents had remembered her mother fondly. Somehow that made them … closer, she thought.

"You were in Highever?"

The sudden question had Kayt looking at him over the rim of her cup as she took a drink. Nodding, she swallowed and replied, "I was. When I was eighteen or so."

She watched his face narrow a bit in consternation. "Why did you not come to the castle?" he asked. "My parents would have welcomed you -"

Her smile was soft and gentle. "It was not my place," she explained. "Do you know, to this day, I remember your mother's visit at King Maric's camp? I remember a beautiful woman, green eyes and dark hair, and such a sad look on her face." Kayt sighed softly. "She was so kind. I don't remember what was said, of course," her smiled widened just a bit, "as I was only four at the time, but Andaer told me later, when I was older."

She saw him stare down at his hands then, refusing to look at her. "She hated having to tell you and your dalish guardian that your mother had died," he finally announced.

Kayt nodded. "I know. Andaer understood that. He made certain I did too." Reaching out, she touched his arm with her fingertips. Only when he looked over at her did she tell him, "Your mother and father were wonderful people. I have never had anything but respect for them."

"Then why did you not come?" he asked again. "It would have eased their minds, I think, to know you were alive and well."

"My path was chosen already," she explained. "And I did not wish to remind them of the painful loss of a dear friend."

Fergus had no reply for that, she noted, which gave his friend - Nathaniel? - a chance to speak up. "Where is your wolf companion?"

Kayt's brow lifted in question as she turned to face him. "I'm sorry?" she countered, though she could tell by the determined look on his face that he had figured it out and would not budge from his conclusion.

"Your wolf companion," he repeated. Eyes narrowing in on hers, he added, "I was under the impression that _Le Renard Blanc_ traveled with a wolf."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fergus stiffen, heard him begin to protest softly, but Kayt waved him off. "It's alright," she told him. She knew Fergus knew. Between the incident in the town the other night and the realization of who exactly she was, she had no doubts about that he fully understood now. "Shadowhawk is nearby," she told Nathaniel calmly. "He will not come into the camp, though, unless I call him."

Nathaniel's brow lifted in surprise. "You … are a ranger then?"

Kayt nodded. "I am."

Fergus smiled at her. "Bryallyn is too," he told her. "My sister," he then explained for clarification.

"And my wife," Nathaniel added.

Kayt looked back and forth between them, comprehension dawning along with a smile. "She has the blades, yes?" Kayt asked next, her focus on Fergus, but her question to both.

Fergus nodded. "She does. Her ability to _use_ them well, however …."

Nathaniel actually chuckled a bit. "She knows enough," he reminded Fergus.

Kayt's smile was warm. "She is an archer then? Or does she prefer a blade and shield?"

"She is an exceptional archer," Nathaniel supplied, briefly thinking back to the competitions they'd had over the years. He was not ashamed that his voice rang with pride in his wife's abilities.

"Better even than my mother," Fergus added.

Kayt's eyes widened. She'd heard of the Teyrna's skill with a bow over the years. "Is that so?"

Fergus nodded. "My mother even declared it publicly when she gave Bry the bow that King Maric had given her all those years ago."

Kayt bowed her head slightly in admiration. "Then I shall have to meet her someday," she murmured. "In the meantime …," she started to rise to her feet, "I do not wish to be an imposition."

Fergus was quick to follow, exchanging a quick look with Nathaniel who nodded. "Please stay," he told her. "We have plenty of room in camp, and if you are traveling in the same direction, well, there is safety in numbers, particularly during these trying times."

Kayt glanced at them both. "Thank you," she replied. "At the moment, I have no specific destination, but I would be willing to travel with you for a time."

"And you would be most welcome," Fergus assured her. "Come, I'll show you where you can set up your tent." As he began to lead her away, Kayt chanced one more glance at Nathaniel. The look on his face was unreadable which, for someone who relied a great deal on being able to read people in her line of work, was a bit disconcerting. However, he did give her another nod, barely perceptible but she caught it, and she offered him a smile in return. Yes, she would travel with them for a time, and perhaps she would be able to find out more about her mother from Fergus and in return, she could offer her services for use as they saw fit. After all, how many people could say that they had worked in cooperation with _Le Renard Blanc_?


	70. Beware of Low Flying Dragons

_**Thank you to my two fabulous betas: Erynnar and MireliAmbar! Also thank you to those who have hung around! I'm so sorry for the delay, but I got hung up on this chapter, even before the previous one was finished, and only recently found my way around it! I have not given up on this story, I promise!**_

* * *

"Are you _sure_ this is a good idea?"

Bryallyn remained silent as they continued to travel, her own mind occupied by that very thought. After a time, she sighed softly and glanced up at Alistair while murmuring, "No, but what else can we do. You heard what she said."

Alistair snorted and added, "Yeah, and I also heard her threaten to put some sort of hallucinogenic mushroom in our evening meal the other day too. It's all about trust …."

Bryallyn couldn't contain a chuckle at that. "_Your_ bowl maybe," she agreed with a flash of a grin. "Seriously though, Alistair. You were there when she told us what was in that grimoire, and we've both met Flemeth before. Twice, as a matter of fact. If Flemeth could do something like -"

"And can you read that grimoire for yourself?" Alistair challenged. "Because I managed a look at one of those pages and all that witchy gibberish made absolutely no sense to me whatsoever."

"One would have to show signs of intelligence to have hope of understanding it in the first place," Morrigan's haughty voice announced from behind them.

Bryallyn ignored the snide comment. "We are close enough to the Wilds at the moment we can at least stop by to see what the situation is," she told Alistair quietly. "I do not intend to just walk in there, arrows flying. We will talk to Flemeth first, find out what we can, then make a decision from there."

They continued on in silence for a time, but it became clear that Alistair had not dropped the subject when he spoke again. "Has it occurred to you that if Flemeth is as dangerous as Morrigan says she is - and I think we both agree with Daveth's original observation that Flemeth _is_ the Witch of the Wilds and therefore a force to be reckoned with - you probably shouldn't be …." He paused, frowned, and then stammered on, "Well, what I mean is … in your condition ..."

Bryallyn stopped walking and turned to look directly at Alistair. "I shouldn't be what?" she asked.

Alistair stopped beside her, grateful the others kept on walking on ahead. He was finding it difficult to finish his thought without succumbing to complete embarrassment, and the thought of having an audience to watch just made it worse. "Well, um …," his hand rose to rub at the back of his neck.

Bryallyn's brow rose slightly in a mixture of question and amusement. "Yes?"

Finally giving in, Alistair gestured awkwardly towards her belly. "That. Should you be in the middle of a battle in your condition?"

Bryallyn suddenly found herself torn between exasperation, fondness, and the knowledge that he was probably correct. "We aren't going in for a fight," she chose to remind him instead. "And you realize, do you not, that by suggesting such a thing it would apply to battles against the darkspawn as well? Do you _really_ want to be down a person then?"

"But you just said that Morrigan wanted Flemeth dead -"

"Morrigan wants Flemeth dead _and_ her grimoire," Bryallyn corrected.

Alistair harrumphed, but did not bother arguing the difference at that point, nor did he focus on any of the secondary implications that went along with it. He clearly had a point he was trying to make, and for once, Bryallyn noted, he was keeping is thoughts direct. "As I see things, 'being dead' implies that fighting is involved."

Eyes narrowing, Bryallyn crossed her arms and gave him a hard look. "Are you wanting to lead, Alistair?" She was not certain how she managed to maintain it, though, when she noted the look of horror that crossed his face. He had expressed to her before on a few occasions just how little he thought of his leadership capabilities. Bryallyn was hoping to improve upon this, to help him build his self-esteem, but clearly that had not yet happened.

"Maker's blood, no!" he finally managed.

Nodding once, firmly, Bryallyn announced, "Then we do this my way."

The rest of the journey was made in silence which was fine by Bryallyn's way of thinking. She had enough to consider - Alistair had had a viable point, after all - without the added distractions brought on by party banter. But as they neared the Korcari Wilds, she still had no idea what sort of a plan or strategy might work best.

"Warden, if I may."

Pulled from her multitude of thoughts, Bryallyn paused in her steps to turn and face Morrigan. "Yes?"

"I must leave you at this point," the apostate explained.

Bryallyn frowned. "Is that so?"

Morrigan's sage nod was solemn and sincere enough. "If I am too close at the time of Flemeth's death," she explained, "Flemeth will find my body and seek to inhabit it, and thus -"

Bryallyn sighed, nodding. "Making this whole effort pointless."

"Exactly."

Straightening, Bryallyn took a long look at their surroundings. "Where shall we meet up?" she asked.

Morrigan smiled. "When you are through, go on as you would and make camp a fair distance from the Wilds. As much as is possible. I will find you when it is safe for me to return."

Bryallyn's eyes narrowed as she sought to understand, but Morrigan responded to her question by action rather by words as she stepped back, transforming into a bird of prey, and taking to the skies. Startled by the sudden action, Bryallyn could only stare upwards as the mage took off in an eastward direction, the sight of her soon blended into the distance.

"How do you wish to approach this, Warden?"

Zevran's question brought Bryallyn's thoughts back to the present as she turned to face the rest of their party who had moved in as Morrigan departed. Glancing over at Alistair, she finally responded, "We will approach as we would any other," she explained. "Until we know the exact situation, we will not draw weapons. Keep in mind, we will _NOT_, under any circumstances, instigate this fight. If Flemeth can be reasoned with, we will take that path. If not, we will let her begin this fight …."

~ 0 ~

"'We will let her begin this fight,'" Bryallyn later heard one of the others echo, mimicking her tone. Bryallyn, however, was too busy aiming arrows and letting them fly with accurate precision to bother responding. So, perhaps it hadn't been the best decision. However, if there was one lesson she had taken over the years of her training from her father and, to some degree, her mother, one did not just go bounding into every situation in life prepared for immediate battle.

Beside her, Bryallyn could hear Leliana singing softly as she, too, utilized her skill with the bow. The Orlesian was quite good, and Bryallyn thought she might even offer Bryallyn a challenge if they were to ever face off as she had in the past with Nathaniel. However, circumstances being what they were, Bryallyn knew this would likely never come to pass.

Eyes refocused on the scene before her, Bryallyn continued firing, placing shots as strategically and accurately as she could given that so much magic was in play around her. She had to hesitate a short while later, though. At the beginning of the battle, as Alistair, Sten, Zevran and Constant all hurried forward to engage the now-dragon-Flemeth and give Bryallyn, Wynne and Leliana time to take position, Bryallyn had called in additional aid from the surrounding forests. A pair of wolves had arrived, jumping in right beside Constant, the three canines attempting to nip at the back of dragonFlemeth's heels while the warriors attempted to do more damage up front. One of the wolves had gone down early, limping back to the edges of the forest with whimpers of pain and anguish that were enough to cause Bryallyn's heart to ache. She wished there was more she could do, but with being down a mage in this fight, and Wynne's attention currently focused on keeping them all alive, there was nothing. When the second wolf withdrew, hobbling off after its companion, Bryallyn began looking for opportunity to call for additional reinforcements. She needed a moment, just a small break in the ferocity of battle ….

But she miscalculated, or dragonFlemeth realized too quickly what she was up to. Either way, in mid-call, Bryallyn noted that dragonFlemeth had turned and focused all of her attention on her. Bryallyn's own attention focused on the precise call for the bear this time, she could do naught to protect herself. She heard but ignored the cry of alarm from across the field (Alistair, if she recognized the voice right), bracing herself for whatever consequences might come. In the split second after the last of her call took to the air, the ground around them began to rumble and Bryallyn felt a sigh of relief begin to take hold as her request was granted.

The impact of dragonFlemeth's bellowing roar nearly dropped Bryallyn to her knees. Stunned, she had to shake her head a few times before she could bring her focus back to the task at hand, but by the time she looked back up, eyes once again focused on dragonFlemeth, she could see she was, quite literally, too late.

However, just before the small ball of fire headed towards her hit, Bryallyn felt a cool wash of protective magic wash over her. It was enough to ward off the worst of the damage, but Bryallyn could see that her armor had taken the brunt of it. A moment later, dragonFlemeth's attention still clearly focused on Bryallyn, Bry felt herself pushed roughly to the side as she was hit from her left.

Stumbling, unbalanced, Bryallyn was somewhat surprised that she did not fall and land hard on the ground. But her surprise was mitigated a moment later as she heard a final, bellowing roar of protest from dragonFlemeth, and turned to find Zevran scrambling up the back of its neck, blades sinking in and out of the flesh there with each scrambling step. At the same time, she noted that Alistair had managed to move around front, his own blade sinking deep into the creature's chest. Only then did Bryallyn look upwards, eyes widening as she realized who her savior had been. "Sten?" she rasped.

The look he gave her then was meant to make her cower, she supposed, but Bryallyn frowned instead. "Women have no place on the battlefield," she heard him mutter before he released her, turned and stalked away.

"You know, there _is_ a reason we bypassed the high dragon in Haven," a familiar voice observed mildly.

Bryallyn turned to face its owner. "You think?" she countered, the adrenaline in her system leaching out now that the severity of the fight was past. "A little difficult to do that this time around."

"Well, yes, I suppose you do have a point," Leliana agreed. "But still …."

Bryallyn sighed, releasing the last of the adrenaline just as Constant came bounding over, jumping around his mistress, barking and generally expressing his pleasure at having survived the battle. Bryallyn smiled at her hound before reaching over to scratch him behind his ears. "Good boy," she murmured. Turning her attention back to her friend, she added, "I had to do it, Leliana. It is no different than when I assisted you with Marjolaine."

Leliana scoffed softly, her eyes meeting Bryallyn's. "Marjolaine was no fire breathing beast that could tear you limb from limb, hmm?"

But behind the words, Bryallyn sensed more. "Sometimes it is the more subtle beast that is the most dangerous, hmm?" she offered. Then, using hands to brush away the dirt and dust from battle, she added, "No matter the case, it is over now." She thought to add some comment that perhaps it might result in Morrigan softening up a bit more towards them now, being in their debt for saving her life after all, but Bryallyn's instinct kept the words from forming. There was something about the apostate's manner that suggested she would refrain from anything but a simple 'thank you' at best. _Ah, well. Perhaps it is a favor I can cash in some other day,_ Bryallyn mused silently.

The refreshing coolness of a wave of healing magic washed over her and Bryallyn turned to face Wynne. "Thank you," she murmured to the mage who had her attention clearly focused on the job at hand.

The mage smiled. "You are welcome," she replied as she finished. "However, I think you and I might need to have a discussion soon on your future battlefield strategies, young lady."

Bryallyn arched an eyebrow at the older woman, but said nothing. After all, had she not had those same thoughts earlier? "I will take it under advisement," she agreed. Across the field, she could see Alistair and Sten examining the now very still form of dragonFlemeth. With a quick look back at Wynne, she asked, "Are you finished with the healing?"

Wynne nodded. "Thankfully, injuries were relatively minor," she agreed.

"Ah, by my dear Wynne," Zevran began in his usual manner, "that just is not so!"

Chuckling, Bryallyn left Wynne to fend off the Antivan rogue as she nodded at Leliana and the two crossed over to stand beside Alistair and Sten who had moved over beside the hut. Leliana tilted her head towards the door and Bryallyn nodded. "All is well with you two?" she asked the men.

Sten remained his usual stoic and silent self, but Alistair replied. "Why do I get the feeling we still are not done with her yet?" he asked, eyes locking back on the remains. "It's just so … creepy."

Bryallyn chuckled. "You do not believe she is dead?"

Alistair frowned. "It's not that so much as it is … I don't know. I can't put it into words."

"It's magic; it cannot be trusted. This is why we stitch the mouths shut of those who would use such skills and cut out the tongues of those who practice that which is forbidden."

Startled, Bryallyn glanced up at the qunari. She heard Alistair's appalled gasp echoing around them as well. Raising her hand, she waved off his protests, knowing that this was not the right time. Instead, she opened her mouth to reply, only to be distracted by the sound of the door to the hut opening and closing behind her. Turning, she found Leliana returning, reaching to hand her a bound volume and a small, folded bundle. "This is all that was inside."

Taking both items, Bryallyn opened her pack and placed them inside before lifting it back to her shoulder. "We should get going," she told them then. Discussions about magic and the way that the qunari dealt with it versus the way Ferelden did could wait for another time. They had what they were after. Flemeth was dead (hopefully). There was no further reason to remain.


	71. Tempting Nate

The decision for Kayt to travel with the larger group was an easy one to make in the end, but the full understanding of the rightness of her decision took several more days to settle. The connection between her mother and the elder Couslands had been a close one. That was fact, as evidenced by her mother's journal writings. But for Kayt, the choice to join up with Fergus, to remain by his side for a time, to offer whatever help and assistance she might be able to was an opportunity she could not afford to pass up. She had not recognized him immediately in the marketplace in the village, but from the moment Nathaniel had spoke his name the night they had encountered _Le Renard_, she had known him. Besides the fact that it was something _Le Renard_ would do, she had other reasons for joining his party. After all, his parents had offered her mother assistance during difficult times, it was only fair that she do the same for him. Was it not?

And so she settled into the routine of traveling among a larger group, an adjustment that despite her usual solitary status did not require much adapting. She did not speak often to the members of the group, but she found herself observing. She also assisted with scouting, hunting, as well as general defense of the group. But unless directly spoken to in regards to some specific matter at hand, she kept her own counsel. She _did_ however, finally call Shadowhawk into the camp to join them, allowing the others to become acquainted with the wolf so that they would recognize him in a fight, if necessary.

During the days, they would travel. Of an evening, they would make camp and fall into their normal routines. Mending arms and armor. Preparing the evening meal. Setting up tents or taking inventory of items they had and others that might become necessary sooner rather than later. And then there were the more relaxed moments ….

The first evening a challenge was issued, Kayt had been sitting beside the fire while crafting new arrows to replace ones lost in battle against darkspawn earlier that day. Fergus was nearby, recounting some story from his youth which had Kayt laughing, the antics of Fergus and his sister as he described them something she could nearly see in her mind's eye. During the process, she rose and lifted her bow, nocking the arrow and pulling the string back near her ear as she aimed towards a tree across the small clearing.

Off to her right, she heard the steps behind her; soft, slow, but familiar enough in weight, and a smile crossed her lips. This Nathaniel Howe was good at stealth. Not quite as good as she was, Kayt mused silently, but close. And, after all, she had a few years on him in both age and experience.

"Do not stop on my account," his voice drifted over from her right as her arm began to lower.

Turning, she sought him out and smiled. "I was merely testing the balance," she informed him casually.

"Were you now?" he countered.

Kayt saw a hint of a smile at his lips and her brow arched in question. "You doubt my intentions or my abilities, ser?" she asked.

She ignored Fergus' soft, knowing chuckle and kept her eyes locked upon the shadows where Nathaniel currently stood. "Not in the least," he admitted, taking a step forward and showing himself in the waning afternoon light. "I simply wish to admire such skill and learn that which you would willingly share."

There was a moment's silence around the fire before it dissolved into general laughter from all parties involved. "If you simply wished to compare styles," Kayt finally managed as laughter wound down a few minutes later, "you only had to ask!"

Offering a lazy smile, Nathaniel countered, "I thought that was what I had done?"

Nathaniel, she saw, still had his bow and quiver at the ready. Reaching by her feet to grab her own, she nodded to the far side of camp. "How about those trees over there?" she asked.

Fergus shook his head in no small amount of amusement as the two wandered off. If there was one thing he had come to recognize and appreciate in Kayt since her arrival, it was that her sense of humor and personality fit in readily with their group. In some ways, she reminded him of his sister. In others, of his mother. And yet still in other ways, she was completely her own self. It was difficult to isolate these qualities as well, and so he kept his thoughts to himself.

Nathaniel moved into position beside Kayt, eyes upon every small movement, every minute adjustment. Most he recognized, but there were subtle little things that at first didn't seem as if they should mean much, but once she raised her arms and took the shot ….

The entire camp soon became entranced in watching the two archers practice. Two 'targets' had been attached to two fairly evenly distanced trees, a certain number of paces had been counted off, and once in agreement the two had begun. While they compared techniques and strategies, the others attempted to go about the business of completing the set up of camp, but every so often they would stop and watch and, occasionally, let out a whooping cheer for Kayt. The occasional glowering glare that Nathaniel would toss in their direction only seemed to increase this sort of reaction.

After completing his check of arms and armor, Fergus joined Rhyan who had arrived shortly after the two archers departed, and he leant her assistance as they sat near the fire working on preparing the evening stew.

Another thunk had Fergus glancing up from the vegetables he was slicing. Straight down the middle, right in the center. Squinting slightly, he could tell from this distance that it had been Nathaniel's arrow making that shot. "I still can't get over it," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

But Rhyan heard while she skinned the rabbits and began boning them so they could be placed in the stew. "And what is that, my lord?"

Shaking himself from his musings, Fergus turned to face her. "Oh, just the fact that she has been out there, all this time, so many years … and we never knew. I think my parents would have searched for her had they known where to look." He offered Rhyan a smile then. "Kayt's mother was a close friend to my parents," he explained. "Marianne's death was hard on them."

Rhyan watched as Fergus' brow furrowed just a bit at this. "Well," she offered, "from the sounds of it, she did not wish to cause your parents more grief." She smiled back at him. "And whether she was raised by a dalish guardian or your parents, she certainly seems to be quite well trained and skilled with that bow."

Fergus nodded, his eyes still watching as Kayt now was showing Nathaniel a trick or two and then took a more difficult shot, making it look simple. "Indeed," he agreed absently. It was definitely something to ponder.

~ 0 ~

Kayt lifted her bow and took aim. As she did so, knowing his focus was upon her, she murmured, "So … if I understand correctly, your wife is an archer as well, no?"

Nathaniel nodded. "And a ranger," he told her, echoing his words of the night of her arrival.

Kayt took the shot, a smile curving upwards at her lips as she turned without waiting to see where it landed. "It is good to know there are more of us out there." She watched him lift his bow this time, taking the time to set his shot before releasing the arrow. With a tilt of her head, she gave him an appreciative nod. "Nice shot."

"Thank you. Bry taught me that one." Nathaniel sighed softly, but noted that the pain that usually lingered when thinking on his wife was not nearly so uncomfortable this time.

Kayt could see in his eyes the hint of sorrow fighting back against the success of a good shot, and so she grinned, countering, "And did you teach her something in return? Fair is fair, after all."

But surprisingly, Nathaniel's look soured as he scowled, a look of concern filling his features. "I started to, yes," he replied. "Bry is an expert archer, better than me, I openly admit that. But her skills with blades …."

Kayt paused in taking her next shot, lowering her bow and turning to face him. "Nathaniel, you cannot worry so," she advised gently. "Not only do you do your wife a disservice, but you -"

His scowl turned into an almost menacing sneer. "And what would you know of such loss?" he growled. "By your own admittance, you were a child when you lost your mother. You have no real memory of her."

Kayt stiffened slightly, but held her ground before him. She did not care that he towered over her, or that his anger was clear as day across his face. She had faced much worse on the battlefields of Ferelden over the years. "I know of loss," she replied after a moment, her voice strong, unwavering and only a hint of sadness etching it. "My guardian was taken, right out from our camp when I was off tracking down supper one evening not two months ago. The man who raised me as his own, who saw to it I did not go without memories of my mother, who made certain I knew of her legacy and when I found a slightly different path to take, made arrangements for me to learn that as well … he was taken. Not killed, but kidnapped."

Nathaniel's eyes widened. "What?"

Sighing, Kayt stared off into the distance over his shoulder, but her eyes were focused on the past. "We had set camp for the night and Shadowhawk and I went off to hunt dinner. This was not unusual. When we returned, however, Andaer was gone. His belongings were there. His weapons remained. There were signs of a scuffle and I was able to determine that at least five people were involved … but he was gone." She shrugged. "What could I do?"

"Did you not find a path? A trail to follow?"

"I did," she agreed. "And I followed it until I reached the Imperial Highway. Shadowhawk assisted me, I even called for others, but we could not find the direction taken after that. I have been from Denerim to Gwaren. From Lothering to Highever. Nothing. I have no knowledge of who it was who took him, or why." Sighing softly, she turned her attention back to the tree before her. "One day, I will find out," she added, her tone suddenly darker than before and decidedly defiant. "At that time I will fulfill my promise."

Nathaniel blinked. "Promise?" he echoed.

Her eyes found his and he found that the 'promise' she had in them was enough to make his nerves jump just a bit though he knew he was not their intended target. They also told him much more than any words ever could. Nathaniel found himself incredibly glad that he had not crossed her in any way ….

~ 0 ~

"She is, in a word, remarkable."

Rhyan glanced over at Nathaniel. They both had drawn watch this evening, given the increased numbers in their group. "How is that?" she asked in return. With his eyes following back towards the fire where several of the others sat, including the only other woman in their group, she had no doubts about whom he was speaking of.

"Her skill - as an archer, as a ranger." He managed a half smile. "As a survivor." Shaking his head so Rhyan knew he would not go into detail on a story that was not his to tell, he concluded, "She reminds me of Bryallyn in so many ways."

"Ahhh." Rhyan offered a smile in return. "I believe I heard Fergus say something much the same before."

Nathaniel sighed and nodded. Yes, if anyone else would see it, it would be Bryallyn's brother.

Silence settled around them for a time, its presence comforting rather than foreboding. After a while, as they began to walk around the perimeter of the camp, Rhyan began speaking again. "Do we have a specific destination in mind at this time?"

Nathaniel shrugged. "Fergus mentioned Gwaren. I figure we will at least finish crossing the Bannorn, decide once we reach the Imperial Highway. Hopefully by then we will have a better idea which direction to take."

"Gwaren," she echoed. "Are we hoping for aid from the Teyrn then?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "I have no idea," he replied. "The rumors that have been filtering out of Ostagar and Lothering are troubling, indeed. But depending on whom you speak with, Teyrn Loghain is a friend or a foe. I think the only certain way to know is to face him ourselves."

"Is he not an ally with your father?"

Nathaniel scowled over at her. "He is also an ally to the Couslands," he returned. "Fergus has claim to that Teyrnir, no matter my father's grand wishes and schemes. Loghain would be mad to not recognize that."

"It sounds as if there is a lot of madness in this world of yours," Rhyan murmured.

Nathaniel sighed. "Indeed."

They neared the stream that they had camped within walking distance of and paused for a moment to take a drink. As he looked up, the moon shining down upon the water and giving some illumination to the area, he spotted a pair of eyes across the way, though they remained hidden in the scrub along the edges. It was difficult to tell from such a distance just what creature they belonged to, but Nathaniel thought perhaps a wolf. Shadowhawk? He knew Kayt allowed the wolf free passage in and out of camp. A different wolf? Maybe even a deer? Sighing softly, he found his thoughts wandering towards his wife, wondering of her fate. _Bryallyn, where are you?_ The uncertainty of what lay across the stream was matched at that moment by his uncertainty of her fate. A moment later, he was distracted by the oddest sensation on his ring finger. He glanced down towards the band, wondering at it. It felt … heavy. Almost burdensome. Reaching out, he ran his hand through the water once again. The sensation eased a bit, but did not completely go away. When he looked up once more, the pair of eyes that he felt had been upon him specifically, were gone.

Rising to his feet once again, he turned towards Rhyan. "Shall we continue?" he asked, sweeping his arm in the direction they had been headed.

Rhyan nodded and started off before him.

They had almost completed their circuit of the camp when Nathaniel was startled as his companion came to a sudden stop, turning to face him. He sought her eyes first, but saw no hint of warning or of distress. "Rhyan, what is it?"

Without explanation, Nathaniel watched in stunned silence as she closed the distance between them and lifted herself the short distance, placing her lips on his. Her actions caught him completely off guard; his reaction to her intentions were delayed as they finally broke through the astonishment that had overcome him with the situation. Lifting his hands, he took firm hold of her shoulders and pushed her away. "Rhyan!" he rasped in shock. "What are you doing?"

Her eyes found his, but he saw no shame in them. No surprise. No … anything, really, except perhaps a hint of disappointment. "All those years," she whispered, her eyes holding his. "You always thought it was Devlyn I cared about, but you were wrong."

Blinking back confusion, Nathaniel asked, "What do you mean? You and Dev were inseparable."

"It was you," she replied. "Always you. Devlyn used to tease me about it incessantly. I had to bribe him to keep him silent around you so you wouldn't find out."

"Rhy …."

The silence that hung between them this time was awkward at best. Finally, Rhyan broke it. "Fergus mentioned that you talk to her. Is that right?"

Nathaniel frowned. "Talk to …. You mean to Bryallyn?" Rhyan nodded. "Well … yes. After a fashion, I guess you could say that."

Rhyan pursed her lips together. "When was the last time you spoke to her?"

Nathaniel's eyes widened. "Rhy -"

"How do you even know she is yet alive, Nate? Would you not have spoken with her more recently if she was?"

"It does not work like that!" he insisted.

"When was the last time?" Rhyan demanded.

Nathaniel sighed. This conversation was not one which he wished to have, and yet he suspected she would not let it go if he did not. "Weeks ago," he admitted.

"Then, do you not think -"

"No!" Nathaniel took a step back from her adding more distance between them to emphasize his point. "Rhy, I am sorry. Truly I am. But I know that Bryallyn is alive out there," he waved a hand out beyond the perimeter of the camp, "and I _will_ find her again." Eyes meeting hers again, he added, "I love her, Rhyan. Can you not understand that? I married her because I love her. This is not just because of duty or because of my father's actions or the Blight or anything, this is because I love my wife. She loves me. End of story."

Silence fell again, broken only when Rhyan murmured, "So it would seem."

Turning away, Nathaniel ran a hand through his hair. "Is this … Will this cause problems between us?" he finally asked.

He heard her shuffle her feet, but she took a few moments before she replied. "I honestly do not know."

"That is not what I want."

This time it was Rhyan who sighed. "No, I know that. I … I think …." She sighed again. "Forgive me," she whispered before turning and walking away.

Turning back, Nathaniel watched her leave, heading towards her tent and slipping quietly inside. And while he sincerely felt for her, he knew that there could be no other way between them. She was a friend, nothing more. Whether Bryallyn lived or not, it would always be that way.

~ 0 ~

Miles away, Bryallyn woke with a start, suddenly fearful and uncertain as to the source. Fully alert, mind and heart racing at a pace with which she could not keep up, it took some long while and finally Constant moving over to nuzzle at her side before she could lay back, secure enough once more to drift back to sleep.


End file.
